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gains 


A  WILD  BOAR  CHASE. 

FOR  MEN  AND  BOYS. 


By  Chas.  E.  Nash,  Xjtti/b  Rock,  Ark. 


It  will  be  reroembered  by  many  now  living 
that  after  the  close  of  the  civil  war  all  the  planta- 
tions in  the  Mississippi  valley  were  grown  up  in 
undergrowth,  weeds  and  vines.  That  this  un- 
dergrowth had  been  the  lair  for  the  wolf,  bear 
and  wild  hogs.  In  the  four  years  of  their  deser- 
tion these  wild  and  vicious  animals  had  multi- 
plied to  an  enormous  extent,  making  it  dangerous 
for  men  and  women  to  roam  far  from  home  or 
hut.    It  is  the  last  named  animal,  the  "wild 


2  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

boar,"  that  we  shall  make  the  subject  of  our  nar- 
rative. 

In  the  fall  of  1865  I  returned  to  my  deserted 
plantation  and  found  house  and  hedge  occupied 
by  these  denizens  of  the  forest.  We  were  without 
meat  of  any  kind,  as  bacon  was  worth  four  dol- 
lars a  pound  and  meal  two  dollars  a  bushel.  Of 
the  latter  we  had  about  a  bushel  tied  up  in  an  old 
sack,  with  some  old  knives  and  forks,  and  a  tin 
cup  or  two.  But  the  woods  were  filled  with  wild 
game,  and  the  lakes  were  full  of  the  finest  fish 
that  swim  in  the  fresh  water  deep.  The  buffalo 
and  cat  in  the  rivers  had  had  four  years  of  quiet 
peace — nothing  but  the  roar  of  the  Federal  can- 
non disturbed  their  peaceful  repose.  But  this 
did  not  prevent  them  from  either  multiplying  or 
growing.  So  you  see,  my  reader,  wTe  were  not 
much  in  danger  of  starving  for  want  of  meat. 
And  this  brings  me  in  mind  of  a  letter  I  saw  pub- 
lished in  a  New  Orleans  paper. 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys.  3 

A  farmer,  being  without  supplies,  wrote  to 
a  commission  merchant  that  he  wished  some  sup- 
plies to  make  a  crop  on  in  1866.  He  was  very 
moderate  in  his  order,  but  had  nothing  to  secure 
him  for  the  outlay.  The  merchant  wrote  him  in 
reply  that  he  could  not  send  them  without  ample 
security.  To  which  letter  the  farmer  replied  in 
the  following  words :  "Go  to  hell,  Mr.  Merchant, 
with  your  supplies.  The  woods  is  full  of  'Sim- 
mons, the  vines  is  full  of  grapes,  the  'possum  is 
fat  and  slick,  the  coon  is  as  good  as  ever ;  and  we 
can  live  on  these  till  springtime  comes.  Then  we 
can  live  on  blackberries  till  roasting  ears  come; 
then  on  them  till  the  corn  gets  hard,  and  the  old 
woman  and  boys  can  grind  it  on  our  old  steel  mill 
the  Yankees  left  in  the  yard,  while  I  hunt  and 
fish.  So  you  can  go  to  hell  with  all  you  got,  and 
no  thanks  to  you,  neither." 

Well,  the  fall  of  1865  was  peculiarly  favor- 
able to  the  returning  refugees,  for  no  frost  fell 


4  A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys. 

until  the  last  of  the  month,  and  not  a  flake  of 
snow  touched  the  earth  that  winter.  It  was  cold 
enough  to  keep  the  fresh  meat  from  spoiling.  We 
got  a  little  salt  from  a  Memphis  huntsman,  who 
had  a  camp  in  the  dense  cane  thicket,  enough  to 
save  our  meat. 

At  this  time  there  was  some  young  fellows 
who  had  to  flee  their  State  for  little  misdemean- 
ors they  had  done,  in  the  way  of  killing  a 
nigger.  These  cane  thickets  afforded  fine 
hiding  places  for  them.  Well,  one  came  to  my 
house  in  December.  He  had  done  nothing  worse 
than  kill  a  nigger,  who  he  said  tried  to  kill  him. 
But  the  Yankee  provo  marshal  got  after  him  and 
would  have  hung  him  if  he  had  caught  him.  This 
young  man  had  served  two  years  of  the  war  in  a 
Tennessee  regiment.  His  name  I  will  omit,  as 
h©  may  be  living  at  this  writing — though  he 
would  be  twenty  years  my  junior — but  I  will  de- 
scribe him.    He  was  about  six  feet  high,  black 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys.  5 

hair,  fair  complexion,  weighed  about  160  pounds, 
very  dark  brown  eyes,  fierce  as  a  wild  cat's,  act- 
ive as  an  old  razor-backed  hog,  that  the  farmers 
used  to  say  could  jump  a  ten-rail  fence  and  not 
knock  off  the  top  rail. 

In  our  retreat  from  Selma  we  brought  with 
us  a  dog  that  we  had  raised  from  a  pup.  This 
proved  to  be  a  remarkable  dog  in  many  respects. 
A.s  our  train  moved  along  he  would  take  his  stand 
on  the  head  of  the  column,  and  every  now  and 
then  would  trot  back  to  the  last  wagon  to  see  if 
all  was  right.  If  any  wagon  had  broken  down, 
which  was  frequently  the  case,  he  would  remain 
with  it  until  it  started  again,  then  take  his  posi- 
tion as  above  described.  "Bose,"  as  that  was  his 
name,  guarded  the  whole  train  at  night,  taking 
very  little  sleep.  If  anything  occurred  to  the 
teams  he  would  bark  loud  enough  to  wake  up  the 
whole  camp.  Sometimes  a  mule  would  get  en- 
tangled in  the  harness  that  had  been  left  upon 


6  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

Mm  and  fall,  and  would  have  hurt  himself  badly 
had  not  Bose  given  the  alarm.  Harness  was  fre- 
quently left  on  all  the  stock  at  night,  as  we  did 
not  know  what  time  the  Federals  would  overtake 
us  and  relieve  us  of  them,  and  so  have  us  to  foot 
it  the  rest  of  the  way.  We  were  not  certain  that 
they  would,  nor  were  we  certain  they  would  not. 
But  we  got  through  all  right  with  Bose's  help, 
after  a  long  and  tedious  journey  of  forty  days,  a 
journey  under  other  circumstances  we  could 
have  made  in  ten  days. 

Now  we  come  back  to  the  young  man,  the 
dog  and  the  wild  boar.  Bose  in  a  little  while 
learned  to  trail  the  track  of  a  wild  hog,  for  there 
were  no  tame  ones  to  trail.  In  this  he  became 
very  expert,  for  he  could  take  what  the  old  hunt- 
ers called  a  "cold  trail."  He  never  barked  on  the 
trail,  so  gave  no  false  alarms.  When  he  had  them 
brought  to  bay  he  made  the  woods  resound  with 
his  music.   There  is  a  peculiarity  about  the  wild 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys.  7 

hog  that  belongs  to  no  other  animal.  It  is  this : 
He  can  never  be  tamed,  though  you  put  his  eyes 
out  and  confine  him  in  a  pen  ever  so  long.  He 
will  champ  his  teeth  and  foam  at  his  mouth  all 
day  long,  and  worry  himself  trying  to  get  out  un- 
til he  exhausts  himself  and  refuses  food  or  water 
until  he  dies.  Another  peculiarity  we  might 
mention  is  that  they  always  keep  in  a  straight 
line,  never  letting  anything  obstruct  their  way. 
If  you  get  ahead  of  them  on  your  horse,  they  will 
make  a  whack  at  your  horse's  legs  with  their 
long,  sharp  tusks.  These  tusks  are  curved  and 
sharp  pointed.  The  keenest  blade  that  has  ever 
been  made  by  man  can  not  cut  a  smoother  and 
deeper  gash  than  can  one  of  these  wild  boards 
tusks.  When  he  makes  a  thrust  at  you,  or  at  an- 
other animal,  he  throws  his  head  to  one  side, 
makes  a  strike,  then  turns  the  other  side  and 
makes  the  same  stroke,  to  be  sure  of  his  game. 


8  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

I  have  looked  into  the  eyes  of  every  vicious 
animal,  but  never  saw  such  fierce,  sparkling  eyes 
as  the  wild  hog  has;  no,  not  even  the  ubiquitous 
rattlesnake.  The  snake  carries  more  venom  in 
his  fang,  but  makes  a  small  puncture  to  inject 
his  venom,  while  the  wild  boar  makes  a  wide 
gash,  and  woe  be  to  the  artery  that  stands  in  its 
way,  for  it  will  be  severed,  as  if  cut  with  a  scal- 
pel. 

These  animals  feed  on  cane  root  and  polk 
root  in  the  winter.  These  last  grow  up  luxu- 
riously in  the  old  deserted  fields.  In  many  places 
they  dig  so  deep  for  the  roots  that  they  make 
large  caves  in  the  earth,  sufficiently  deep  to  hide 
themselves  in  when  at  work.  The  wild  hog  uses 
the  night  for  his  work  and  rests  and  hides  him- 
self in  the  day. 

Well,  we  will  get  back  to  the  dog  and  the 
hog.  One  frosty  morning  my  neighbor's  two 
sons  came  down  to  take  a  hunt  in  the  thick  cane- 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys,  9 

brake  bordering  on  Flower  Lake.  They  had  tack- 
led a  flock  of  wild  hogs  with  their  hounds  the 
day  before,  but  the  hounds  would  beat  a  hasty 
retreat  whenever  they  came  in  sight  of  the  hogs. 
Knowing  that  we  had  had  wonderful  success 
with  Bose,  they  thought  he  would  find  his  match 
when  he  tackled  the  leader  of  the  gang,  which 
was  a  wild  boar  about  four  years  old,  perfectly 
white — his  hair  was  as  white  as  snow,  not  a  black 
hair  upon  him.  He  was  the  tallest  and  largest 
hog  I  ever  saw,  but  did  not  weigh  heavy,  as  he 
was  gaunt  and  lean  as  all  these  wild  boars  are. 
They  are  not  fit  for  the  table  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion, but  better  than  no  meat  at  all.  Myself  and 
my  trusty  colored  man  accompanied  them  to  the 
field  of  battle.  Bose  took  the  trail  about  two 
miles  from  where  the  herd  was  feeding.  We  were 
all  on  horseback,  and  we  would  advise  no  one  to 
go  on  foot  in  one  of  these  chases,  as  the  wild  boar 
is  very  fierce;  and  if  you  wound  him  and  do  not 


10  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

kill  hini,  he  will  continue  his  course,  and  if  yon 
fall  in  his  line  he  will  cut  you  to  pieces.  Woe 
unto  the  man  who  comes  in  contact  with  this 
brave,  ferocious  animal. 

Well,  it  was  not  long  before  we  met  the 
hounds  in  their  hasty  retreat.  But  Bose  stood 
his  ground,  and  opened  his  big  mouth  wide  and 
made  the  welkin  ring.  We  came  up  on  our  horses 
and  found  their  leader  with  his  back  pressed 
hard  against  a  big  oak  tree.  He  was  outside  of 
his  fort.  The  cane  was  very  thick  and  stubby, 
so  that  he  was  well  protected  on  both  sides.  Bose 
was  standing  in  front,  at  about  ten  feet,  and 
barking  furiously.  One  of  the  young  men  was  a 
soldier  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  was  the 
best  shot  with  a  pistol  I  ever  saw,  for  he  could 
shoot  a  snake's  head  off  while  running.  I  said 
this  young  man  was  a  soldier,  but  he  wore  no 
honorable  scars.  One  of  his  fellow  soldiers  told 
me  that  he  was  never  in  a  fight;  that  he  was  a 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys.  11 

•cavalry  man,  and  always  turned  his  horse's  head 
to  the  rear  and  found  a  home  in  the  forest,  but 
would  join  his  command  at  a  safe  distance  when 
advancing  or  retreating.  He  also  said  the  Yan- 
kees had  never  seen  the  color  of  his  uniform. 
Well,  this  young  man  was  in  the  advance,  and 
imprudently  told  Bose  to  "take  him."  Bose 
rushed  forward  to  seize  him  by  the  ears,  and 
when  close  enough  the  boar  used  his  deadly 
weapon  on  him,  cutting  his  throat  and  the  main 
artery.  The  young  man  at  this  instant  sent  a 
ball  from  his  pistol  into  the  brain  of  the  boar. 
My  trusty  man  leaped  from  his  horse,  gathered 
Bose  in  his  arms,  and  brought  him  to  me.  I  had 
no  surgical  instruments  with  me,  so  had  to  resort 
to  the  mother  of  invention.  I  seized  the  spouting 
artery  with  my  fingers  and  held  it  until  the  man 
could  tear  a  few  threads  from  his  coat  with  which 
I  tied  the  artery.  I  used  the  fingers  for  the  for- 
ceps, as  they  were  made  first,  then  I  took  from 


12  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys, 

my  pocket  a  silk  handkerchief,  a  relic  of  the  war, 
and  made  a  bandage  of  it.  I  returned  to  my 
horse,  and  mounting  him  had  "Jim,"  for  that  was 
his  name,  to  hand  me  up  Bose.  I  took  him  home 
and  put  him  in  a  comfortable  cabin  near  the 
house. 

Bose  was  so  much  exhausted  by  the  loss  of 
blood  that  he  could  not  stand.  His  throat  was 
badly  swollen,  and  the  inflammation  ran  high, 
but  by  giving  him  war  surgery  he  recovered  and 
was  as  willing  and  anxious  to  repeat  the  fight  as 
an  old  Confederate  was  to  renew  his  attacks  upon 
his  enemy.  We  know  that  many  a  wounded  man 
went  into  a  fight  and  came  out  victorious.  You 
will  see  in  the  after  part  of  this  narrative  that 
Bose  did  also.  He  came  out  all  right,  having 
learned  more  sense  than  to  obey  an  order  from 
one  who  perhaps  did  not  have  a  smart  dog's 
sense. 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Hen  and  Boys.  13 

We  now  get  back  to  the  young  refugee  whose 
personnel  has  been  described.  This  young  man 
did  not  stay  at  my  house  long.  He  had  many  in- 
fluential relatiyes  and  friends  liying  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Judge  Austin  Miller,  of  Tennessee, 
owned  a  large  plantation  about  fiye  miles  off.  He 
raised  a  large  number  of  hogs  and  cattle,  and 
as  the  place  was  some  distance  from  the  Missis- 
sippi river,  and  surrounded  by  a  dense,  heavy 
canebrake,  the  Federals  did  not  visit  the  place. 
He  left  the  negroes  on  the  place  to  take  care  of 
it,  A  large  number  of  his  cattle  went  wild,  the 
hogs  particularly.  This  place,  being  almost  hid 
in  the  dense  forest,  afforded  these  refugees  a  safe 
hiding  place,  and  they  could  amuse  themselves 
hunting  the  wild  hogs,  and  this  was  the  most  fas- 
cinating sport  at  that  time.  Well,  this  young 
man  became  an  expert  at  killing  wild  hogs.  He 
managed  to  get  a  supply  of  ammunition — how  I 
do  not  know,  but  there  is  always  a  way  where 


14  A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Beys. 

there  is  a  will.  He  killed  a  large  number  of  hogs,, 
and  some  of  them  they  said  were  tame.  A  cane- 
braker,  who  stayed  at  home  during  the  war,  said 
he  killed  one  of  his  best  hogs,  but  he  was  afraid 
to  charge  him  with  it,  as  life  was  too  cheap  in 
those  days.  , 

Well,  to  the  young  man  again.  Some  time 
in  January,  1866,  he  came  to  my  house  to  take 
a  hunt.  He  had  heard  that  Bose  had  recovered 
from  his  severe  wound  and  was  willing  to  take 
his  chances  in  another  fight.  So  he  stayed  all 
night  and  we  started  early  the  next  morning,. 
Jim  accompanying  us,  for  I  never  went  without 
him.  We  had  three  dogs  with  us — Bose,  a  bench- 
legged  "fice,"  and  a  half-hound.  The  last  two 
named  were  no  good  in  a  battle,  but,  like  some 
cowardly  soldiers,  were  good  at  getting  spoils. 

We  were  all  on  horseback,  and  I  was  armed 
with  a  double-barreled  shotgun  that  old  granny 
had  hid  in  her  bed-tick.    My  ammunition  was 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys.  15 

scant,  and  I  will  not  tell  you  where  I  got  it.  Jim 
was  armed  with  an  old  butcherknif  e,  which  he 
used  to  great  advantage  in  depriving  the  dead 
hog  of  his  entrails.  This  lightened  the  draught 
and  also  preserved  the  meat.  After  going  some 
distance  the  young  man  proposed  that  we  divide 
company,  and  that  he  take  Bose  with  him  and 
leave  us  the  other  two  dogs.  He  said  there  was 
a  hog  range  some  miles  off,  and  from  the  fresh 
signs  he  thought  it  quite  a  number.  I  gave  my 
consent,  and  he  departed.  Jim  and  I  came  into 
an  old  field  covered  with  sedge  grass ;  there  was  a 
little  vacant  space,  and  in  this  the  hog  lay.  I  am 
now  going  to  tell  a  story  at  the  risk  of  being 
called  a  "prize  liar." 

This  was  a  beautiful  sunshiny  day,  and 
all  wild  animals  were  coming  out  to  bask  in  the 
sunshine.  An  old  white  boar  about  five  years 
old,  who  had  escaped  the  battle  of  his  masters  or 
his  masters'  enemy,  lay  in  this  space  with  all 


16  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

four  feet  stretched  to  the  sun.  He  was  motion- 
less, and  gave  no  evidence  of  life.  The  feet  were 
as  rigid  as  in  death.  Jim  seeing  the  hog,  said: 
"Master,  there  is  an  old  wild  boar ;  some  one  has 
killed  him,  and  he  is  so  poor  they  did  not  take 
him  away.  Let's  go  up  and  see  him."  We  rode 
up,  and  to  our  astonishment  he  jumped  up  and 
made  for  us.  Had  we  not  gotten  out  of  the  way 
and  given  him  the  road  he  would  have  cut  our 
horses'  legs  off.  He  took  a  straight  course  for 
the  cane,  but  as  it  was  about  a  mile  through  the 
sedge  field,  we  could  keep  up  with  him  on  our 
horses.  The  two  dogs  would  run  up  and  nag  him 
in  the  hind  quarters,  but  when  he  turned  they 
would  turn  loose  and  run.  In  one  of  these  nag- 
ging spells  I  came  up,  and  when  firing  at  the  hog 
killed  the  bench-legged  "fice."  The  boar  kept 
straight  to  the  timber  and  ran  so  fast  that  I 
could  not  hit  him,  being  a  bad  shot  on  the  wing. 
He  made  good  his  escape.    The  young  man  got 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys.  17 

no  game  that  day,  but  hearing  our  story,  said  we 
would  go  the  next  day  and  he  thought  Bose  would 
.get  him. 

He  came  over  the  next  day,  which  was  also 
beautiful  and  bright,  with  the  crispness  of  a 
live  winter  day,  just  enough  to  make  one  feel 
active  and  strong,  so  all  the  party,  dog  and  all, 
felt  like  going  into  a  fierce  battle. 

Coming  to  the  place  where  we  had  jumped 
the  hog — or  rather  where  the  hog  had  jumped 
us — and  halting  for  a  few  moments  to  hold  a  con- 
sultation and  lay  out  a  program  for  the  day's 
<mase,  we  started  in  the  direction  our  enemy  had 
fled.  Bose,  smelling  around  on  the  bushes  and 
then  on  the  ground,  soon  struck  out  in  the  direc- 
tion the  hog  took.  The  capture  of  this  boar 
was  to  be  the  prize  fight  of  the  season,  as  he  had 
fought  his  way  through  many  a  battle  and  come 
out  victorious.  It  was  not  long  before  Bose  was 
keeping  his  head  close  to  the  ground  and  trotting 


18  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

up  a  little  faster.  We  kept  close  behind  him, 
and  after  a  while  came  to  an  old  fence  which  had 
the  good  fortune  to  escape  the  ravages  of  war. 
The  hog  had  touched  the  fence,  and  this  we  knew 
by  Bose  scenting  the  rails.  The  fence  was  about 
five  feet  high  with  the  top  rail  somewhat  rotted. 
Wet  rails  or  rotten  wood  often  furnish  to  the  dog 
that  is  carrying  the  trail  fresh  scent,  because 
they  absorb  the  hog's  odor.  Bloodhounds  know 
this,  as  well  as  all  persons  who  have  fol- 
lowed them  are  aware.  Bose  leaped  over 
the  fence  and  kept  the  trail,  while  we  had  to  pull 
down  the  fence  to  let  our  horses  through.  In  this 
time  Bose  had  gotten  a  little  ahead  of  us,  and  as 
he  was  quickening  his  pace  we  had  to  spur  up  to 
catch  him.  About  a  mile  from  the  fence  Bose 
had  brought  him  to  a  bay.  He  barked  louder 
than  he  ever  barked  before,  for  he  knew  he  had  a 
formidable  enemy  to  contend  against.  When  we 
rode  up  we  saw  the  boar,  with  his  back  to  a  large 


A  Wild  Boar  Chase— For  Men  and  Boys.  19 

sycamore  tree.  Bose  was  standing  off  at  a  re- 
spectful distance,  though  giving  no  evidence  of 
fear.  I  said  to  the  young  man,  "He  is  fortified 
on  all  sides."  And  as  I  did  not  want  my  dog  to 
get  killed  or  badly  wounded,  he  said,  "We'll  fix 
that,  doctor;  you  and  Jim  stand  here  and  I  will 
go  around  the  tree,  and  while  Bose  is  entertain- 
ing him  in  front  I  will  slip  up  behind  the  tree 
and  jump  aboard  of  him  and  shoot  him  through 
the  head."  He  dismounted,  and  walking  through 
the  cane  unobserved  by  the  hog,  and  unseen  by 
us,  was  soon  aboard  of  his  antagonist.  The  mo- 
ment we  saw  him  astride  of  this  ferocious  ani- 
mal, and  shuddering  for  his  safety,  we  heard  the 
crack  of  his  pistol.  He  had  placed  it  close  to  the 
hog's  ear  and  sent  a  ball  crashing  through  his 
brain.  He  fell  at  once  to  the  ground  dead.  Bose 
had  no  opportunity  of  carrying  off  any  of  the 
laurels. 


.20  A  Wild  Boar  Chase — For  Men  and  Boys. 

This  was  the  most  daring  adventure  I  ever 
knew  a  man  to  make,  either  in  war  or  out  of  war. 

The  boar  was  too  poor  to  be  used,  but  we  did 
not  leave  him  in  the  woods  for  the  vultures  to 
prey  on  his  flesh,  but  handed  him  up  to  Jim  to 
take  home  and  hang  him  up  by  the  side  of  the 
road  as  an  evidence  of  our  skill  and  bravery.  The 
■capturing  of  this  wild  king  of  the  forest  gave  us 
more  notoriety — that  is,  the  young  man — than  if 
we  had  killed  twenty  wild  boars,  as  he  had  defied 
the  whole  army  of  wild  boar  hunters. 

We  have  given  this  narrative  in  detail,  bat 
have  brought  in  nothing  irrelevant  or  untrue. 
Stories  are  often  killed  by  drawing  them  out,  and 
relying  more  upon  the  imagination  than  facts. 


COMON  SENSE  ON  SALOONS 

AND  THE  TEMPERANCE  QUESTION. 


Extracts  from  Hon.  Peter  Sterling-. 


There  is  as  much  champagne  drunkenness 
as  whisky  drunkenness  in  proportion  to  the  num- 
ber of  drinkers  of  each.  But  a  man  who  drinks 
champagne  is  sent  home  in  a  cab  and  is  put  to 
bed,  while  the  man  who  can't  afford  that  kind  of 
a  drink,  and  is  made  mad  by  poisoned  and  doc- 
tored whisky — doctored  and  poisoned  by  our 
heavy  tax  on  it — must  take  his  chance  of  arrest. 
That  is  the  shameful  thing  about  all  our  so-called 
legislation.  It  is  based  on  unfair  interference 
with  personal  liberty,  and  always  discriminates* 


.22       Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question. 

in  favor  of  the  man  with  money.  If  the  rich  man 
has  his  club,  let  the  poor  man  have  his  saloon. 
"How  much  better,  though,  to  stop  the  sale  of 
wine  everywhere  ?"  That  is  neither  possible  nor 
right.  You  can't  strengthen  humanity  by  tying 
its  hands.  It  must  be  left  free  to  become  strong. 
I  have  thought  much  about  tlrs  problem,  and 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  free  whisky  is 
the  best  plan  to  break  up  saloons — giving  the 
poor  man  equal  chances  with  the  rich,  and  giv- 
ing him  pure  whisky  at  low  prices  to  suit  his 
purse. 

The  poor  man  looks  at  the  high  tariff  as  an 
attempt  to  abridge  his  personal  rights,  and  there- 
fore runs  to  the  other  extreme — of  drinking  for 
defiance.  Put  whisky  upon  the  same  level  that  it 
was  before  the  civil  war — a  small  tax  for  revenue 
—and  there  will  not  be  the  tenth  part  of  drunk- 
enness that  there  is  today,  nor  would  there  be  one 
gallon  manufactured  where  there  are  twenty  gal- 


Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question.  23 

Ions  made  in  this  age.  Why?  Because  it  would 
not  be  remunerative.  Millions  of  dollars  could 
not  be  made  out  of  it.  Saloonkeepers  could  no 
longer  live  in  palaces  sustained  upon  the  money 
drawn  from  the  pockets  of  the  poor. 

The  writer  is  capable  of  making  the  compari- 
son as  he  has  lived  in  both  ages.  He  was  the 
owner  of  a  large  wholesale  and  retail  drug  store 
in  the  village  of  Helena,  Ark.,  from  1850  to  1858. 
(The  Nash  and  Cleburne  firm.)  We  kept  wine, 
whisky  and  brandy  by  the  barrel.  In  the  retail 
department  we  sold  them  by  the  bottle  and  by 
the  gallon.  The  best  whisky  we  sold  at  forty 
cents  per  gallon.  The  farmers  would  come  in 
and  buy  a  gallon,  take  it  home  and  drink  it  at 
home  in  the  presence  of  their  families.  Did  they 
ever  get  drunk?  No;  they  were  some  of  the  best 
Christians  of  the  land.  The  wealthy  planters 
bought  wine,  of  which  we  had  all  kinds,  but  old 
imported  Cognac  brandy  seemed  to  be  the  pref- 


24       Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question. 

erence.  We  sold  it  at  $1.25  per  gallon.  This  wa» 
imported,  not  American,  which  is  a  poor  substi- 
tute for  the  real  brand,  though  it  sells  for  five 
times  the  price.  Who  drank  this  wine?  The  gen- 
tlemen of  the  family.  I  have  known  a  large  fam- 
ily, the  mother  and  the  children  having  never 
tasted  a  drop  of  wine,  for  it  was  kept  principally 
for  gentlemen  visitors.  Was  drunkenness  com- 
mon in  those  days?  It  was  an  exception,  and  oc- 
curred very  seldom.  With  public  sentiment 
down  on  it,  no  excuse  could  be  offered  for  it. 

How  much  was  spent  for  the  wine?  Not 
much,  as  it  was  only  indulged  in  by  the  wealthy 
classes.  What  of  the  whisky?  Perhaps  a  barrel 
was  sold  in  a  year,  more  for  log-rollings  than  pri- 
vate use.  Politicians  in  those  days  did  not  take 
whisky  in  their  saddlebags.  They  took  tobacco 
for  the  men,  medicine  for  the  children,  and  quin- 
ine pills  for  the  women.  This  was  a  politician's 
equipment. 


Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question.  25 

Hadn't  they  better  do  it  at  this  day  than  to 
be  spending  the  amount  of  the  first  year's  salary 
in  treating  at  saloons?  Or,  if  the  whisky  is  to 
be  used,  hadn't  he  better  buy  a  gallon  at  forty 
■cents  and  treat  it  out,  than  pay  §25  for  the  same 
amount  in  the  saloon?  Mark  you,  it  will  have 
the  same  invigorating  and  patriotic  effect  on  the 
voter  that  the  §25  a  gallon  whisky  has,  the  sugar 
and  lemons  being  absent.  You  say :  "Yon  were 
old  fogies  in  those  days;  you  were  not  up  to  the 
progress  in  the  sciences  and  arts."  Well,  we  an- 
swer, if  the  progress  in  science  is  to  increase 
drunkenness  and  the  arts  to  increase  vice,  we  had 
better  remain  old  fogies.  We  have  not  gone  into 
any  scientific  research  upon  alcohol  or  its  phys- 
iological or  social  effects,  or  the  efforts  of  the 
church  to  suppress  its  sale.  We  have  never  par- 
taken of  the  sentimentalism  of  the  Woman's 
Temperance  Clubs,  because  we  thought  they  had 
bitten  off  more  than  they  could  chew.   A  reform- 


26       Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question. 

ation  can  never  be  brought  about  by  force  in  mor- 
als; it  must  be  by  convincing  the  judgment. 
Ninety-nine  out  of  one  hundred  people,  good  and 
bad,  discover  a  plot  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  to  pro- 
hibit its  use  altogether.  This  is  not  enjoyed 
by  the  best  men  and  women  of  the  State,  and  it  is 
that  that  has  prevented  them  from  taking  any 
active  part  in  suppressing  saloons. 

How  far  is  the  partisan  press  responsible 
for  this  state  of  affairs?  It  is  rather  a  puzzling 
matter  in  ethics.  I  don't  think  the  newspaper 
fraternity  have  any  lower  standard  of  morals 
than  other  professions.  In  the  main  they  stand 
for  everything  that  is  admirable,  so  long  as  it  is 
non-partisan.  Certain  it  is  that  the  partisan 
press  would  end  tomorrow  but  for  the  narrow- 
ness and  meanness  of  readers.  But  don't  the  par- 
tisan press  make  the  mean  readers?  And,  vice 
versa,  don't  the  mean  readers  support  the  parti- 
san press?    Then  ain't  both  to  blame  just  as 


Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question.  27 

much  as  the  saloon  is  for  making  drunkards? 
The  politician  advocates  saloons  for  votes,  not 
because  he  believes  it  right.  If  a  man  wants  to 
drink  at  any  time,  what  right  have  I  to  say  he 
shall  not,  any  more  than  he  has  to  say  I  will  not. 
So  long  as  a  man  drinks  in  such  a  way  as  not  to 
interfere  with  another  person's  liberty,  we  have 
no  right  to  check  him.  But  the  moment  he  does, 
the  public  has  a  right  to  protect  itself  and  his 
family,  by  restraining  him,  as  it  does  thieves  or 
murderers  or  wife  beaters. 

I  sometimes  conclude  that  the  people  that 
are  most  in  need  of  an  education  are  the  college 
bred  men.  They  seem  to  think  they've  done  all 
the  work  and  study  of  their  life  in  their  four 
years,  and  can  dissipate  mentally  ever  after. 
Thought  is  not  limited  to  muscle.  To  protect 
the  weak  mind  from  the  strong  mind  is  a  far 
more  difficult  task.  So  far  we  have  only  par- 
tially succeeded.   In  this  difficulty  lies  the  whole 


28       Common  Sense  on  the  Temperance  Question. 

problem  of  a  free  government.  Socialism,  so  far 
as  it  attempts  to  repress  individualism,  and  re- 
duce mankind  to  an  evenness  opposed  to  all  nat- 
ural laws,  is  suicidal  of  the  best  in  favor  of  me- 
diocrity. But  so  far  as  it  attempts  to  protect 
that  mediocrity  and  weakness  from  the  superior 
mind  of  the  best,  it  is  only  in  line  with  the  laws 
that  protect  us  from  murder  and  robbery.  You 
can't  expect  men  of  the  worst  variety,  however, 
to  draw  such  distinctions. 


GRANNY'S  GRAVE 


LAUGHTER  IN  TEARS 


AND 


TEARS  IN  LAUGHTER 


BY 


DR.  C.   E.  NASH 

LITTLE  ROCK 


THOMPSON   L1TSO.  AND  FTG.  CO. 
LITTLE  ROCK. 


COPYRIGHTED 


INTRODUCTORY. 


At  the  solicitation  of  many  of  my  religious 
friends,  I  have  been  induced  to  detach  "Gran- 
ny's Grave"  from  my  Biographies  of  Generals 
Cleburne  and  Hindman,  and  bring  it  out  in 
cheap  paper  cover  that  the  class  of  readers  who 
cannot  indulge  in  a  $1.50  book  might  enjoy  the 
story.  It  is  a  Southern  story,  but  this  makes 
no  difference  to  the  intelligent  reader.  He  cares 
not  where  the  plot  was  laid,  so  that  the  facts 
are  well  written.  There  is  no  prejudice  against 
a  good  story,  whoever  the  author  may  be.  In 
the  hope  of  its  doing  good,  is  my  only  plea  for 
its  introduction  into  general  circulation. 

Author. 


GRANNY'S  GRAVE. 


Late  in  the  evening  on  a  beautiful  day  in  No- 
vember, 1862,  when  the  sun  was  sinking  low  in 
the  horizon,  you  might  have  seen  a  caravan  con- 
sisting of  men,  women  and  children,  sallying 
forth  from  their  homes  in  Tunica  county,  Miss. 
The  three  colors,  white,  black  and  yellow,  were 
represented  in  this  following.  Ox,  horse,  mule 
wagons,  and  a  cart,  were  loaded  with  the  house- 
hold effects  of  this  rather  motley  crew.  They 
were  decamping  pretty  much  after  the  manner 
of  the  Spaniards  when  they  left  Santiago  de 
Cuba.  This  band  was  allowed  to  take  out  their 
goods  and  chattels,  as  they  had  nothing 
contraband  of  war.  They  had  no  side  arms,  nor 
front  arms  either,  as  they  were  not  a  belligerent 
people,  simply  honest  toilers  of  the  soil;  but 
there  was  a  mortified  pride  which  had  settled 
upon  the  brow  of  all.  What  was  this  mortifica- 
tion ?  The  same  as  that  of  the  Spaniards— forced 
to  go.  This  caravan  moved  along  with  heavy 
step  and  weeping  eyes.  Where  was  it  going? 
What  Mecca  was  calling  it  to  worship  her  God? 


6 


Granny' s  Grave 


Not  one  of  the  number  could  tell.  They  had  no 
particular  destiny;  they  were  simply  wandering 
in  the  woods  to  find  a  place  of  safety,  where  they 
could  enjoy  their  slavery  and  freedom  to  their 
own  liking. 

A  few  hours  journeying  brought  them  to  the 
banks  of  that  notable  and  historical  lake  called 
banks  of  that  notable  and  historic  lake  called 
"Flower  Lake,"  from  the  abundance  and  variety 
of  flowers  that  grew  along  its  banks.    Upon  its 
blue  waters  floated  that  remarkable  plant,  yon- 
kopin,  an  Indian  name,  and  if  we  could  define 
it,  no  doubt  it  would  explain  its  botanical  sig- 
nification; but  the  residents  cared  nothing  for 
the  name,  as  the  nuts  it  contained  were  as  sweet 
to  the  taste  as  the  rose  was  to  the  smell.   So  what 
is  the  difference  about  a  name,  so  the  taste  and 
odor  are  all  right.    With  the  bright,  variegated 
colors  of  the  banks,  and  the  bottle  green  leaves 
of  the  yonkopin  spread  out  on  the  bosom  of  the 
lake  like  Chinese  umbrellas,  it  necessarily  pre- 
sented one  of  those  beautiful  and  picturesque 
scenes  that  nature  is  always  bringing  to  our 
view,  to  gratify  the  taste  and  delight  the  eye  of 
the  poor  as  well  as  the  rich.   God's  beauties  are 
for  the  masses,  not  for  the  classes,  and  man  can 
neither  obliterate  nor  destroy  them.    The  poor 
girls  who  lived  near  this  lake  could  support  a 


Granny1  s  Grave 


7 


finer  boquet  than  any  of  the  swell  ladies  of  New 
York  or  Chicago,  for  nature  would  not  allow 
these  flowers  to  be  transplanted  to  other  soils 
and  climes.  Flowers  and  plants  could  be  found 
about  this  lake  that  could  be  found  nowhere 
else.  A  wealthy  gentleman  owned  a  plan- 
tation which  bordered  on  this  lake  for  two 
miles.  He  was  a  bachelor  at  the  time,  but  soon 
after  learned  better  and  was  married. 

During  his  bachelorhood  he  erected  a  beauti- 
ful pavilion  on  the  banks  of  the  lake  for  the  la- 
dies and  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood  to  re- 
pair in  the  spring  season,  and  take  from  the  lake 
some  of  the  finest  trout,  bass,  black  and  white 
perch,  that  was  ever  drawn  by  hook  and  line. 
Many  a  pleasant  day  did  the  writer  spend  upon 
the  banks  of  this  beautiful  lake,  in  company  with 
the  most  educated,  refined,  polite  and  cultured 
planters,  with  their  beautiful,  accomplished  and 
loving  wives,  who  loved  their  husbands  with  the 
greatest  devotion  and  cared  nothing  for  the  ad- 
miration and  loose  loving  people  of  the  world. 

At  these  fishing  excursions — for  they  might 
well  be  called  such,  since  they  were  attended  by 
parties  who  lived  at  quite  a  distance  from  the 
lake — the  bachelor  planter  would  have  a  long 
table  set  after  the  old  fashioned  barbecue  table. 
He  had  two  colored  men,  the  finest  cooks  in  the 


8 


Granny J  s  Grave 


State,  who  served  the  viands  to  the  guests.  He 
made  two  requests  of  his  friends,  which  was 
their  card  for  admittance.  Of  the  gentlemen, 
they  were  to  bring  all  the  dogs  they  had  that 
were  fit  for  nothing.  Why  this  request,  will  be 
explained  further  on.  Of  the  ladies,  they  were 
to  bring  all  the  single  females  of  the  family,  or 
widows,  whether  ugly  or  handsome,  rich  or  poor. 
In  this  request  the  bachelor  had  a  motive.  As 
the  ladies  lived  far  apart,  it  would  save  him  the 
trouble  of  visiting  them;  then  at  a  fish  fry  they 
would  be  free  and  easy,  more  perfectly  natural, 
without  putting  on  airs  to  catch  beaux.  They 
would  come  wearing  common  sense  shoes,  that 
tliey  might  run  up  and  down  the  lake,  gather 
flowers,  fish,  or  take  a  ride  on  its  smooth  waters 
in  one  of  his  beautiful  pleasure  boats,  which  he 
kept  for  the  occasion.  Their  hair  would  flow 
down  upon  their  fair  shoulders,  and  they  could 
get  sunburnt  if  they  liked,  and  there  would  be 
no  one  to  criticize  or  restrain  their  natural  love 
for  the  beautiful  and  sublime.  They  were  sweet 
innocents;  God's  noblest  specimens  of  woman- 
kind. 

Did  the  bachelor  select  one  of  these  girls  who 
came  to  his  feasts?  No;  there  were  so  many  at- 
tractions, he  could  not  concentrate  his  affection. 
Re  thought  it  best  to  pay  his  addresses  to  one, 


Granny's  Grave 


9 


and  this  one  had  never  been  near  his  lovely  and 
unique  plantation.  While  lying  on  his  lonely 
bed  at  night,  thinking  of  the  past  and  desiring  a 
change  for  the  future,  his  mind  and  heart  ran 
back  to  his  early  school  days  at  Oxford.  Miss., 
and  his  mental  eye  settled  upon  one  with  whom 
he  had  played  in  his  youthful  days.  As  he  med- 
itated upon  her  beauty,  her  simplicity,  her  grace- 
ful step,  rosy  cheeks  and  kind  and  gentle  tem- 
per, he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  would 
go  back  to  his  old  stamping  ground,  concentrate 
all  his  romantic  love  and  center  it  upon  his  first 
love.  This  he  did,  and  was  married  and  lived 
happily  on  his  plantation,  that  to  many  of  the 
girls  of  today  would  be  a  miserable  prison. 

Xow  for  the  invitation  of  the  dogs.  You  will 
see  before  the  story  is  through  that  this  is  not  a 
digression.  Well,  all  the  dogs  that  were  brought 
to  this  fish  fry  were  to  be  his.  Butch,  Tige,  bench 
leg,  black  and  tan,  hound  and  cur,  all  made  their 
appearance  at  this  show.  They  were  put  into  a 
kennel,  and  there  kept  for  a  much  larger  and 
more  exciting  show,  which  took  place  every 
Christmas  day  while  he  was  a  bachelor,  for  his 
wife  would  not  allow  him  to  have  such  entertain- 
ments, saying  they  were  brutal.  The  dogs  that 
were  put  in  the  kennel  were  to  be  brought  out  on 
Christinas  day,  to  be  put  in  a  fig-nt  with  bears. 


10 


Granny's  Grave 


These  bears  had  been  raised  from  whelps  to  full 
grown  size,  making  them  fat  and  strong.  None 
but  men  were  invited  to  this  dog  and  bear  fight. 
The  writer  has  seen  the  banks  of  the  lake  lined 
with  men  and  boys,  but  none  could  come  close  to 
the  fight  that  had  not  brought  a  dog  at  one  of  the 
entertainments.   ,  t 

The  writer  will  now  give  a  description  of  one 
in  which  he  was  most  interested,  as  he  lost  his 
dog.  As  has  been  said,  you  must  take  a  worth- 
less dog ;  no  one  of  course  would  take  a  good  one. 
A  dog  came  to  my  house  in  the  summer  of  1859. 
He  was  half  hound,  black  and  white,  with  long 
ears.  He  lay  under  the  house  all  the  time,  never 
coming  out  except  to  get  water  or  food.  He  had 
one  black  ear  and  one  white,  one  black  eye  and 
one  white.  He  was  of  good  size  and  could  have 
been  useful  if  he  so  desired ;  but  he  was  troubled 
with  that  disease  some  of  our  soldiers  suffered 
from  during  the  civil  war — home  sickness — for 
he  loved  the  house,  particularly  the  under  part 
of  it.  Perhaps  this  was  a  good  choice  of  his,  as 
in  the  summer  it  was  the  coolest,  and  in  the  win- 
ter he  would  get  near  the  south  side  chimney, 
and  it  would  be  comfortable  for  him.  The  ne- 
groes could  never  get  him  to  go  out  opossum  and 
coon  hunting,  nor  any  other  kind  of  hunting  ex- 
cept bread  hunting. 


Granny1  s  Grave 


11 


I  never  had  much  fancy  for  dogs,  fishing  poles, 
or  guns,  so  was  present  at  only  one  of  these  en- 
tertainments, which  I  am  now  describing,  but  on 
Christmas  of  1860,  concluded  to  take  the  advice 
of  one  of  my  old  negro  men,  and  go  to  please  him. 
He  said  he  wanted  me  to  go  and  take  thaf  ro 
account  dog  and  let  the  bear  kill  him ;  he  was  fit 
for  "nuffin"  but  to  eat,  I  knew  there  was  no 
chance  to  get  the  dogs  there  but  by  force,  so  I 
told  the  old  negro  to  get  a  long  rope  and  tie  him, 
and  I  would  lead  him  to  the  battle.  This  was 
done,  and  I  mounted  my  horse,  forcing  him 
along  for  some  distance.  He  pulled  back  and 
made  some  strangling  sounds,  tearing  the  earth 
up  with  his  feet.  I  soon  found  I  was  not  strong 
enough  to  pull  him  along,  so  threw  the  rope  ov^r 
the  pummel  of  the  saddle  and  let  the  horse  do  the 
pulling.  He  now  saw  that  he  had  better  trot 
after  the  horse  than  be  choked  to  death,  so  I  had 
no  more  trouble  with  him. 

When  I  arrived  I  saw  two  large  bears  tie^  by 
two  long  chains,  which  gave  them  permission  to 
get  into  swimming  water  when  attacked  by  the 
dogs.  I  led  my  dog,  "Watch,"  to  the  bank  of  the 
lake,  close  to  the  bears,  where  he  could  rfe-j  the 
fight  and  notice  their  movements,  for  he  could 
not  run,  as  I  held  him  by  the  rope.  Watch 
looked  on  at  first  with  a  steady  gaze,  showing 


12 


Granny ) 's  Grave 


no  evidence  of  cowardice.  Then  he  commenced 
to  shake  his  head  and  seemed  to  be  a  little  anx. 
ions  to  take  part  in  the  combat ;  but  as  none  of 
the  dogs  up  to  this  time  had  ventured  near 
enough  to  bruin  for  him  to  get  a  slap  at  ihem, 
and  send  them  yelping  to  their  masters,  W  atch 
did  not  seem  anxious  to  advance.  At  length  a 
bull  dog  that  did  not  retreat  from  the  position 
he  had  taken,  which  was  just  outside  the  bear's 
cable  tow,  made  a  lunge  at  one  of  the  bears,  and 
seizing  him  by  one  of  his  quarters,  was  dragged 
into  the  lake,  and  there  the  bear  ducked  him  un- 
til he  was  willing  to  turn  loose  his  hold  and 
swim  to  the  shore.  At  the  defeat  of  this  dog, 
Watch  became  very  much  excited,  and  shook  his 
head  violently,  barking  angr«'y.  A  short  went 
up  from  the  bank,  crying,  "Turn  him  loose,  Doc- 
tor." As  the  old  negro  had  said  he  hope  1  Watch 
would  get  killed,  I  thought  this  a  fitting  time  for 
him  to  show  his  "patriotism,"  by  dying  for  his 
country,  and  relieving  it  of  one  of  its  formidable 
enemies,  so  I  turned  him  loose,  and  in  a  minute 
he  had  one  of  the  bears  by  the  quarter.  The  bull 
dog  seeing  this  daring  adventure,  jump  id  in  and 
caught  the  bear  by  the  other  quarter.  Th<>  bear 
made  for  swimming  water,  with  the  two  dogs 
hanging  to  his  nethermost  quarters.  When  he 
reached  the  swimming  water  he  turned  and  slap- 


Granny7 s  Grave 


13 


ped  at  the  dogs,  which  sent  them  under  the 
water  until  they  were  completely  ducked.  But 
the  two  dogs  kept  their  hold,  and  by  drawing 
back  had  the  bear's  head  under  water,  neither  of 
them  turning  loose  their  hold,  whether  on  top  or 
under  the  water.  Other  dogs  now  swam  in,  and 
covering  the  bear,  soon  had  him  drowned. 

The  hero  of  this  story  was  Tom  Saunders,  who 
was  known  all  over  the  State,  and  for  that  mat- 
ter, over  every  State  that  loved  to  hear  bear  stor- 
ies, for  the  lake  and  the  hero  has  been  written 
up  by  a  professor  of  Oxford  University  in  a  clas- 
sic novel.  The  writer  never  saw  this  book,  and 
if  he  has  used  any  of  the  language  of  this  writer 
it  is  by  an  association  of  ideas  formed  thirty- 
eight  years  ago. 

How  was  this  dead  bear  disposed  of?  He  was 
barbecued,  and  as  he  had  been  fed  high,  and 
made  fat  and  tender,  he  was  the  best  "bar"  meat 
we  ever  ate.  What  became  of  the  other  bear? 
The  two  heroes  of  the  first  fight,  exhausted  and 
covered  with  blood  from  the  bear's  teeth,  must 
not  enter  this  contest. 

While  the  cowardly  dogs  on  the  bank  were 
barking  loudly,  the  bear  dogs  in  the  kennel  be- 
came furious  and  broke  out.  Soon  they  had  the 
bear  strung,  and  in  spite  of  Tom's  scolds  and 
whips,  had  him  choked  to  death.  It  took  the 
two  bears  to  feed  the  number  of  people. 


14 


Granny'1 's  Grave 


What  became  of  Watch  and  the  bull  dog? 
Tori  took  them  of  course;  they  were  his  prop- 
erty by  conquest.  He  took  them  on  his  next 
chase,  and  they  proved  to  be  the  best  bear  dogs 
he  had.  About  a  year  after  Watch  was  killed  in 
a  panther  fight,  nobly  defending  the  life  of  his 
master,  for  Tom  said  while  he  was  trying  to 
avoid  the  wounded  animal,  he  struck  his  foot 
against  a  fallen  tree  and  fell.  He  had  his  knife 
in  hand,  and  when  the  panther  was  about  to  cov- 
er him  Watch  seized  the  panther  by  the  hind 
quarter  and  jerked  him  back.  The  panther 
turned  on  Watch  and  caught  him  by  the  neck, 
breaking  it  instantly.  By  this  time  Tom  had 
sent  his  knife  deep  into  the  panther's  heart,  and 
there  lay  his  friend  and  foe  side  by  side  in  the 
jaws  of  death.  Tom  had  Watch  taken  home  and 
buried  in  his  yard  under  a  large  spreading  oak. 
He  buried  him  with  the  honors  of  war,  shooting 
several  volleys  from  the  same  gun  with  which 
the  panther  was  wounded. 

This  narrative  reminds  me  of  a  story  which 
Elbert  H.  English,  who  was  for  many  years  be- 
fore, and  at  the  time  of  his  death,  chief  justice  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Arkansas.  When  English 
was  a  boy  in  North  Carolina,  one  of  his  neigh- 
bors was  greatly  annoyed  by  coons  eating  his 
roasting  ears.   He  advertised  for  a  coon  dog,  in 


Granny9 s  Grave 


15 


answer  to  which  a  long,  cadaverous  hunter  from 
the  adjacent  hills  of  Tennessee  brought  him  a 
hungry  looking  "jailer"  dog,  which  he  recom- 
mended highly  as  a  coon  dog.  The  Alabama 
farmer  bought  the  dog,  and  he  proved  worthless. 
He  afterwards  complained  to  the  man  of  the 
Tennessee  hills  for  cheating  him.  "Wa'll,"  said 
the  stranger,  "I  always  heard  that  every  dog  was 
good  for  suinthin',  and  this  'un  was  no  account 
for  nothin'  I'd  tried  him  on;  but  I'd  not  tried 
him  on  coons,  so  I  thought  coons  was  his  strong 
pint." 

We  see  by  the  moral  of  this  story  that  even 
dogs  have  a  particular  place  to  fill  in  their  lives 
— but  some  also  have  no  particular  place,  which 
we  often  see  in  the  case  of  men — and  if  they  can 
find  what  that  position  is,  and  fill  it  to  the  best 
of  their  ability,  they,  like  Watch,  will  succeed. 

The  narrative  that  I  have  given  is  not  unfa- 
miliar to  many  now  living  in  the  Mississippi 
bottom.  What  connection  has  all  this  with 
"'Granny's  Grave?''  We  said  the  caravan  camped 
the  first  night  on  the  banks  of  this  classic  lake. 
The  stock  was  watered  at  the  spot  where  we  had 
seen  the  notable  bear  fight  we  have  just  de- 
scribed. We  have  told  you  there  was  a  cart  in 
this  procession.  What  did  it  contain?  A  large 
feather  bed,  a  heavy  comfort,  a  pair  of  sheets 


16 


Granny' }s  Grave 


and  blankets,  and  an  old  white  haired  mulatto 
woman  over  ninety  years  of  age.  Why  were  they 
lugging  such  baggage  as  this?  An  old  woman  of 
that  age  could  be  nothing  but  a  burden  and  ex- 
pense upon  such  a  trip  as  here  described.  Her 
face  was  wrinkled,  her  teeth  gone,  her  head 
white  as  snow,  her  limbs  palsied  with  age,  her 
eyes  blind,  so  that  she  had  to  be  both  supported 
and  led  when  she  wished  to  change  her  position. 
Is  this  not  an  act  of  cruel  injustice  to  expose  one 
so  aged  to  such  hardships?  Was  it  of  the  old 
woman's  free  will  and  accord  that  she  was  being 
thus  treated,  or  was  she  forced  to  take  this  trip 
by  her  condition  as  a  slave?  The  master 
of  this  caravan  was  compelled  to  take  his  effects 
to  a  safer  place  in  the  rear  of  the  Confederate 
army,  as  the  Federals  were  crossing  the  Missis- 
sippi river  from  Helena,  and  robbing  him  of  cat- 
tle, mules,  hogs,  bee  hives,  clothing,  books,  surgi- 
cal instruments,  and  every  other  valuable  thing 
they  could  get  their  hands  upon,  except  the  ne- 
groes, who  refused  to  go  with  them. 

Old  granny  hid  a  shotgun  in  the  bedtick,  and 
then  lay  on  it,  so  when  they  searched  the  house 
for  arms  they  found  none.  No,  they  were  badly 
disappointed  this  time.  Granny  had  been  in 
the  family  for  three  generations ;  had  nursed  the 
grandparents  of  these  children,  and  had  done  no 


Granny1  s  Grave 


17 


work  for  fifty  years  but  nurse  children.  The  last 
ones  nursed  consisted  of  five — three  girls  and 
two  boys.  The  eldest,  a  girl  of  about  eight  years, 
with  light  brown  hair,  blue  eyes,  rosy  cheeks, 
and  full  of  fun.  The  other  two  girls  resemble 
each  other  to  the  extent  they  might  be  taken 
for  twins.  Large,  dark  blue  eyes,  beautiful 
smooth,  glossy  hair,  inclined  to  curl,  slender  fig- 
ures, yet  pictures  of  health,  with  such  bright, 
happy  dispositions.  The  oldest  boy,  who  was 
fourth  in  number,  was  tall,  manly,  and  fine  look- 
ing. His  eyes  blue,  fair  complexioned,  dark 
brown  hair.  His  mother  used  to  look  at  him, 
kiss  and  caress  him  when  a  babe,  and  say  that 
God  had  given  her  all  she  wanted.  "I  would  not 
change  a  feature  of  your  face,  or  alter  your  dis- 
position," she  often  said.  The  fifth,  an  infant, 
with  red  hair,  blue  eyes  and  fair  complexion — a 
fat  little  cherub.  These,  with  the  father  and 
mother,  composed  the  white  members  of  the  fam- 
ily. Before  leaving  the  plantation,  the  father, 
whom  granny  had  nursed,  told  her  that  he  would 
get  a  place  for  her  in  the  neighborhood,  and  have 
her  well  taken  care  of,  and  if  she  died  would 
leave  money  to  pay  all  expenses,  and  have  her 
buried  in  the  family  graveyard.  She  protested 
in  the  most  solemn  terms,  saying,  "I  am  going 
with  my  'chillun.'  "     "But,"  said  he,  "you  will 


18 


Granny7 s  Grave 


die  on  the  road,  granny,  and  then  we  will  have 
to  bury  you  away  from  home."  Granny  called 
the  children  to  her,  and  with  tears  streaming 
down  her  old  bronze  cheeks,  with  a  loud,  tremu- 
lous voice,  said,  "Your  pa  says  he  is  going  to 
leave  me  here,  children,  and  I  am  not  going  to 
stay."  All  the  children  spoke  out  with  one 
voice,  "You  shall  go,  granny!  you  shall  go!" 
This  decided  granny's  fate,  and  the  cart  was  pre- 
pared as  heretofore  described.  A  cam  pure  was 
kindled  close  to  the  lake,  and  the  cook  prepared 
some  hot  bread  and  coffee  for  supper.  The  tents 
were  taken  from  the  wagons,  stretched,  and  the 
beds  placed  under  them.  Granny's  bed  was 
spread  under  the  white  folks  tent,  and  that 
night  all  the  children  slept  with  granny. 

While  wife  and  I  were  sitting  by  the  fire  look- 
ing as  though  we  had  lost  our  best  friend,  and 
thinking  of  the  responsibility  of  moving  such  a 
family — we  did  not  know  where,  but  somewhere 
behind  the  Confederate  lines — I  concluded  to 
break  the  silence  by  rehearsing  what  I  have  writ- 
ten about  the  dog  and  bear  fight.  She  well  rec- 
ollected old  Watch,  as  she  called  him,  for  she 
had  many  a  battle  with  the  broomstick  to  get 
him  out  of  the  house.  Wife  and  I  did  not  retire 
until  late,  and  the  negroes  seemed  to  be  restless, 
frequently  going  out  to  where  the  stock  was  to 


Granny's  Grave 


19 


see  if  they  were  all  right,  and  expressing  some 
*  doubts  as  to  whether  the  yankees  would  follow 
up  and  capture  the  whole  clan.  They  were  more 
uneasy  than  I  was,  for  1  knew  they  would  not 
venture  in  the  cane  country  after  night,  and  by 
the  next  day  we  would  be  safe. 

Granny,  being  very  much  fatigued  at  this  first 
outing,  fell  asleep,  and  so  sound  did  she  sleep 
that  the  whole  camp,  children  and  all,  were 
awakened  by  her  loud  snoring.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  sun  rose  clear,  and  the  animalculse  in  the 
lake  added  additional  brightness  by  giving  out  a 
phosphorescent  light.  Everything  looked  calm, 
quiet  and  majestic  upon  the  lake,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  aquatic  birds  coming  in  at  that  sea- 
son of  the  year  to  bathe  themselves  and  get  their 
food  from  the  yonkopins,  you  would  have 
thought  a  funeral  procession  was  moving.  Well, 
there  was  some  solemnity  attached  to  the  occas- 
ion. After  the  teams  were  hitched  up  and  gran- 
ny's cart  was  made  ready  for  her,  she  called  to 
the  children:  "Chilluns,  come  here!  before  we 
gwine  start  we  must  kneel  down  here  and  pray 
to  God  not  to  let  them  bad  yankees  catch  us  and 
take  my  big  baby's  stuff  from  him."  The  chil- 
dren obeyed  the  summons.  My  wife  and  I,  who 
were  not  particularly  devotional,  concluded  to 
go  worship  with  the  old  negro  woman  and  the 


20 


Granny1  s  Grave 


children.  We  walked  silently  up  to  the  cart  and 
knelt  with  the  rest.  Granny  was  then  upon  her 
knees,  her  hands  clasped,  and  trembling,  and, 
with  a  voice  far  beyond  the  strength  of  her 
years,  made  a  prayer,  the  eloquence  of  which 
was  not  surpassed  by  our  ablest  divines.  Wife 
and  I  were  satisfied  that  she  was  speaking  by  in- 
spiration. In  her  prayer  she  asked  for  God's 
protection  upon  all  of  us.  Rising,  she  said: 
"Now  we  are  ready  to  go.  Sandy,  put  my  bed  in 
the  cart  and  keep  up  with  the  rest ;  I  don't  want 
to  get  away  from  my  chilluns." 

Everything  now  being  accomplished  at  the 
camps,  we  were  ready  to  move.  In  the  carriage 
was  myself,  wife  and  five  children.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken  for  some  distance,  the  prayer  of 
granny  had  so  impressed  us.  The  prayer  was 
no  new  thing  to  the  children,  for  they  had  heard 
granny  pray  every  night  and  morning  in  the  nur- 
sery. The  prayers  of  this  old  negro  brought  all 
those  children  into  the  church  long  before  their 
parents  had  broken  the  bread  of  life. 

Let  us  go  back  and  describe  the  play  room 
granny  presided  over.  We  enter  the  inner  apart- 
ment and  find  a  room  twenty-two  feet  long  by 
eighteen  feet  wide;  ceiling  fourteen  feet  high, 
ceiled  with  dressed  oak.  The  walls  were  of  the 
same  material.    All  the  inside  work  was  var- 


Granny's  Grave 


21 


nished,  giving  a  smooth  surface  that  almost 
served  as  a  mirror.  The  floor  was  of  heart  cy- 
press, and  painted  a  chocolate  color.  The  furni- 
ture consisted  of  small  chairs,  tables,  dressing 
bureau,  cradles,  bedsteads,  and  every  other  kind 
of  furniture  used  in  good  housekeeping,  but  on 
the  diminutive  style.  The  little  cooking  stove 
was  one  of  the  principal  attractions  of  the  room. 
Upon  this  little  stove  granny  taught  the  girls  to 
cook  everything  after  her  old  Virginia  style  of 
cooking,  who  were  considered  the  best  cooks  on 
record.  She  taught  them  to  set  the  table  in  an 
artistic  way ;  would  have  entertainments,  and  in- 
vite other  children.  If  you  could  have  stepped 
in  arid  looked  upon  the  happy  little  faces  at  one 
of  these  children's  entertainments,  you  would 
say,  "Give  us  back  the  days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne." 

This  explains  to  you  why  southern  girls  made 
such  good  housekeepers  and  loving  wives.  They 
were  taught  in  infancy,  before  they  were  old 
enough  to  go  to  school,  as  they  learned  it  in  play- 
rooms. The  children  that  old  granny  taught  in 
this  nursery  made  the  best  cooks  and  housekeep- 
ers in  the  land.  After  the  war  closed  they  were 
able  to  go  to  the  kitchen  and  cook  the  meals. 
From  the  kitchen  they  went  to  the  dining  room, 
from  the  dining  room  to  the  parlor,  entertaining 
you  with  brilliant  wit  and  repartee,  and  giving 


22 


Granny's  Grave 


you  the  sweetest  music  on  piano  and  guitar. 
They  were  educated  in  the  best  colleges  in  the 
north  and  south ;  made  devoted  wives  and  moth- 
ers, sharing  the  labor  with  their  husbands,  who 
had  become  worn  out  and  dispirited  by  the  re- 
verses of  the  war,  and  speaking  loving  and  en- 
couraging words,  cheering  all  in  the  household. 
It  is  well  known  that  a  devoted  wife  and  mother 
can  bear  misfortune  better  than  man ;  are  willing 
to  make  more  sacrifices,  and  take  a  more  hopeful 
view  of  things.  This  conduct  of  our  southern 
women  made  men,  who  had  never  done  a  day's 
work  of  manual  labor  in  their  lives,  seize  the 
plow  and  turn  the  turf  vigorously — men  whose 
hands  were  as  tender  and  as  soft  as  a  woman's. 
It  was  this  lesson  of  industry  and  practical  ha- 
bits, sprung  into  action  by  the  hardships  of  war, 
that  has  developed  some  of  the  finest  characters 
known  to  advanced  civilization. 

But  let  us  return  to  granny.  She  trained  the 
boys  to  shoot  their  dummy  guns,  roll  their  wheel- 
barrow, saw  with  their  little  saws,  bore  with 
their  gimlets,  chop  with  the  little  hand  ax,  and 
romp  and  play  at  will  about  the  room.  So  you 
see  that  both  girls  and  boys  learned  useful  habits, 
without  their  knowing  how  it  was  done. 

Had  we  not  better  have  a  nursery  in  every  fam- 
ily, instead  of  the  kindergarten  of  the  present 


Granny7 s  Grave 


23 


day?  Are  we  not  looking  too  much  after  the  or- 
namental at  the  expense  of  the  useful?  These  are 
pertinent  questions,  and  most  worthy  of  consid- 
eration. 

We  left  the  caravan  as  it  was  starting  out  from 
the  lake.  We  are  now  journeying  eastward,  not 
to  find  the  rising  sun,  but  to  find  the  rising  Con- 
federacy, which  at  this  time  was  a  fixed  fact  to 
those  who  were  as  enthusiastic  as  this  little  band 
of  patriots,  for  the  negroes  had  caught  up  the 
patriotism  of  their  owners,  as  you  have  seen  by 
granny  and  her  comrades.  The  first  day's  march, 
though  but  twenty  miles,  was  very  fatiguing  to 
granny.  We  now  arrive  at  the  foot  of  the  hills 
in  DeSoto  county.  After  spending  the  night  very 
similar  to  the  first  one,  with  the  exception  of 
granny's  snores  and  my  narratives,  we  journey 
along,  bending  our  way  a  little  southward  to- 
ward Senatobia.  As  there  were  no  Federals 
nearer  than  Memphis,  we  thought  we  might  bi- 
vouac here  in  safety. 

As  the  writer  had  some  cattle  in  the  cane, 
which  was  not  in  the  habit  of  coming  out  into 
civilization,  he  concluded  to  take  with  him  a  cou- 
ple of  active  men  and  horses  in  order  to  get  these 
cattle  out  and  sell  them  to  the  Confederate  gov- 
ernment. The  members  of  the  family  were  now 
to  make  themselves  as  comfortable  as  they  could 


24 


Granny7 s  Grave 


in  their  tents.  The  weather  was  still  pleasant,  as 
it  was  one  of  those  exceptional  years  when  frost 
came  very  late.  The  three  men  return  to  the  bot- 
tom and  are  quite  successful,  getting  out  over  a 
hundred  head  of  cattle.  These  we  sold  for  cotton 
money ;  the  best  in  the  world,  as  we  then  thought. 
Greenbacks  could  have  bought  nothing  we  had  ; 
indeed,  they  were  considered  contraband  of  war. 

Mr.  John  Oarlock,  a  planter  who  lived  near 
Sentatobia,  happened  to  pass  by  the  camp,  and 
in  conversation  with  my  wife  got  the  gist  of  our 
story.  He  invited  her  to  his  home,  and  cared  for 
the  stock  and  negroes  until  I  could  come  out. 
Carlock  was  a  noble,  generous  man,  of  large 
means,  and  very  successful  in  business.  To  bring 
our  narrative  to  a  close,  we  will  say,  that  on  our 
return  to  the  hills  we  concluded  to  stay  as  long 
as  it  was  safe  to  do  so.  We  rented  a  place  from 
Mrs.  Roberson,  a  sister-in-law  of  Carlock.  It 
was  the  old  Clanton  property.  At  this  place  and 
in  this  house  occurred  the  most  pathetic  scene  of 
my  life.  Granny  was  taken  sick.  The  fatigue 
she  had  to  undergo  was  too  great  for  her  failing 
strength,  and  in  a  few  days  she  succumbed. 
While  sick  she  repeatedly  prayed  the  following 
psalm :  "Cast  me  not  off  in  time  of  old  age ;  for- 
sake me  not  when  my  strength  faileth."  It  was 
in  the  month  of  cold  December  when  the  white 


Granny7 s  Grave 


25 


winged  messenger  came  for  that  faithful  member 
of  our  household.  She  called  us  all  around  her 
bedside,  and  speaking  first  to  the  children,  put 
her  hands  upon  their  heads,  giving  each  a  sepa- 
rate blessing.  I  wish  I  could  recollect  her  words ; 
I  know  they  would  sink  deep  into  the  heart  of  the 
most  desperate  sinner.  She  then  called  wife  and 
myself,  and  after  rehearsing  her  history  for  three 
generations,  and  pronouncing  a  blessing  upon  us, 
fell  quietly  asleep  in  her  Master's  bosom,  whom 
she  had  faithfully  served  for  more  than  a  half 
century.  These  last  words  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion upon  us,  but  as  there  was  nothing  thought 
of  or  talked  of  but  war,  the  impression  is  now 
but  a  dim  ^one,  to  be  recalled  after  the  lapse  of 
nearly  forty  years. 

She  was  quietly  laid  out  on  some  smooth 
planks,  after  being  dressed  in  one  of  her  black 
Sunday  dresses,  with  a  white,  old  fashioned  tur- 
ban. These  planks  had  to  take  the  place  of  suit- 
able tables,  as  we  were  absent  from  home.  In  a 
short  time  the  smile  of  perfect  peace  had  settled 
upon  her  features,  and  every  wrinkle  smoothed 
out.  The  old  white  head  in  this  instance  was  a 
crown  of  glory,  for  it  was  found  in  the  way  of 
righteousness.  Every  eye  in  the  house  was 
streaming  with  tears;  the  hearts  of  the  white 
members  of  the  family  were  as  deeply  touched  as 


26 


Granny7 s  Grave 


those  of  her  own  color.  The  children  were  going 
wild  with  sorrow,  crying,  "Granny  is  dead! 
granny  is  dead!"  Myself  and  wife,  with  our 
house  servants,  sat  up  and  watched  that  last 
watch  with  the  dead.  None  of  us  were  members 
of  the  church,  and  therefore  hesitated  in  indulg- 
ing in  ministerial  affairs,  but  at  length  the  si- 
lence was  broken  by  our  cook,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  hear  granny  sing  to  the  children  at 
night  before  putting  them  to  bed.  She  broke 
forth  in  one  of  those  nasal  twang  sounds,  pecu- 
liar to  negroes,  yet  soft  and  pathetic.  It  was  the 
old  hymn  I  had  so  often  heard  my  mother  sing 
when  I  was  a  child — 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly." 

Everyone  thought  this  an  appropriate  hymn 
for  granny,  as  all  believed  her  soul  was  then  in 
the  bosom  of  her  Master  on  high. 

The  next  day,  when  we  were  putting  her  in  the 
coffin,  the  children  covered  her  face  with  their 
little  white  hands,  and  said,  "Granny  shall  not 
be  put  in  that  box,  nor  shall  granny  go  into  the 
ground;  we  will  keep  her  here  with  us."  After 
a  great  deal  of  persuasion,  their  mother  succeeded 
in  coaxing  them  away.  The  corpse  was  placed 
in  the  coffin  and  taken  to  a  newly  made  grave, 
in  the  old  Clanton  family  burying  ground.  The 


Granny }s  Grave 


27 


entire  family  followed  the  remains  to  their  final 
resting  place,  but  when  the  corpse  was  to  be 
lowered  into  the  grave,  the  children  again  sur- 
rounded it,  making  the  same  protestations  as  in 
the  house.  Never  before  had  we  such  a  trial 
with  our  ovvn  children,  as  in  this  case.  The 
occasion  was  too  solemn  for  an  exhibition  of 
temper,  and  persuasion, seemed  to  have  no  effect. 
We  did  not  wish  to  force  them  away,  or  use 
harsh  words,  therefore  must  resort  to  deception 
I  told  one  of  my  men  to  drive  granny  back  to  the 
house.  The  mother  and  children  went  towards 
the  house,  while  I  quietly  and  secretly  said  to 
the  driver,  "Take  her  behind  the  stable,  while 
they  are  absent,  then  bring  her  back  and  we 
will  bury  her."  This  was  done,  and  granny  was 
laid  in  the  grave,  not  far  distant  from  the  aged 
members  of  the  Clan  ton  family.  It  was  well  for 
her  that  she  was  then  called  to  her  final  rest,  as 
it  was  but  a  short  time  before  we  had  to  take 
that  long  and  perilous  trip  to  Selma,  Alabama, 
to  assume  the  duties  as  surgeon  of  the  ship  hos- 
pital in  that  city. 

In  1865,  after  our  surrender,  which  was  in 
April,  our  journey  was  now  toward  home,  and  in 
passing  through  Senatobia  we  called  a  halt,  that 
the  entire  family  might  visit  granny's  last  rest- 
ing place,  and  that  we  might  lay  on  her  grave 


28 


Granny's  Grave 


such  flowers  and  evergreens  as  we  could  get. 
The  children  wept  as  bitterly  as  they  did  when 
she  was  laid  in  her  coffin.  We  would  have  re- 
moved the  remains,  but  they  were  in  a  better 
place  than  we  could  offer. 

This  scene  is  one  of  hundreds  of  such  before 
the  war.  Had  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 
written  up  one  of  these  truthful  exhibitions  of 
love  from  slave  to  master,  and  fidelity  from  slave 
to  their  master's  children,  would  not  the  north- 
ern mind  have  had  a  different  bias  from  what 
was  given  it  by  that  fanciful  sketch  of  human 
brutality — "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 


wjvrej*  Deep. 


By  Chas.  E.  Nash,  Little  Rock,  Ark. 


On  a  beautiful  sunshiny  day,  the  20th  of  No- 
vember, 1883,  might have  been  seen  a  large  skiff 
anchored  at  the  landing*  of  the  Mississippi 
river  town  of  Helena,  on  the  Arkansas  side  of 
the  river. 

This  skiff  and  its  freight,  with  its  two 
passengers,  form  an  interesting  scene  long  to 
be  remembered  by  the  two  parties  who  were 
the  participants  in  this  tragic  affair. 

The  writer  owned  a  plantation  lying  on  the 
east  bank  of  the  river,  in  the  State  of  Missis- 
sippi and  county  of  Tunica.  It  was  just  five 
miles  above  Helena,  and  behind  Island  Sixty, 


2  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 


that  he  had  a  plantation  store  and  landings 
with  a  shipping-  and  receiving*  warehouse. 
The  larg-e  Anchor  Line  boats  discharg-ed  their 
f  reig-hts,  consisting-  of  corn,  meat,  flour  and 
all  kinds  of  canned  fruit  and  veg-etables,  to- 
g-ether with  wagons,  plows  and  iron  ware  of 
all  sorts.  They  received  cotton  bales  and 
cotton  seed,  the  only  articles  of  export  in  that 
section,  in  payment  for  those  agricultural  and 
manufactured  articles. 

We  must  now  stop  to  g-ive  an  explanation  of 
the  plantation  store. 

Before  the  civil  war  there  was  no  such 
thing-  as  a  plantation  store.  Cotton  being-  the 
currency  of  the  country,  all  plantation  sup- 
plies, including-  corn,  meat,  meal,  potatoes, 
cabbage  and  agricultural  implements,  were 
furnished  by  the  flatboat  coasting*  trade  ;  and 
nothing-  but  sug-ar,  coffee,  molasses,  rice,  to- 
bacco, etc.,  were  ordered  throug-h  the  com- 
mission merchants  at  New  Orleans. 

This  flatboat  trade  enriched  the  farmers  of 
Ohio,  Illinois,  Indiana  and  a  part  of  Tennes- 
see. 


Eight  Hours  in  the  f'resh  Watet  Deep. 


3 


This  was  truly  honest  interstate  trade.  No 
tariff  was  laid  upon  these  articles.'  No 
wharfage  was  demanded  of  them.  • 

These  boats  coasted  along-  from  Cincinnati 
to  New  Orleans,  and,  after  disposing"  of  all 
their  effects,  the  boatmen  would  sell  their 
boats  and  take  steamer  passage  for  home, 
with  their  coffers  filled  with  the  best  money 
in  the  land.  They  could  get  gold  for  every 
check  they  had,  or  Canal  Bank  paper,  which 
was  at  a  premium  over  gold. 

In  earl}7  days  these  Mississippi  river  com- 
mercial men  would  walk  back  home,  for  they 
were  men  of  muscle,  with  well  balanced 
brains,  and  could  make  the  trip  in  less  time 
than  the  slow  moving*  steamers  of  that  day. 
The  commercial  connection  between  planter 
and  tradesman  ripened  into  strong-  friendship, 
and  oftentimes  when  the  trader  was  at  a  land- 
ing* selling-  thousands  of  bushels  of  corn  to  the 
neighborhood,  he  was  royally  entertained  at 
the  planters'  home  and  toasted  as  we  would 
in  these  times  toast  a  millionaire. 


4  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 


It  may  be  asked  here  why  the  planters  did 
not  make  their  own  supplies. 

The  answer  is  that  cotton  furnished  labor 
for  the  old  and  young,  and  as  the  active  man 
and  woman  labor  could  produce  more  cotton 
than  they  could  pick  out,  it  furnished  profit- 
able employment  for  those  who  were  not  able 
to  do  any  other  kind  of  work.  The  whole 
force  of  the  plantation  had  to  be  used  for  the 
making  and  gathering-  of  this  crop  alone.  It 
was  so  remunerative  that  it  supplied  every 
other  necessity  of  life.  This  trade  was  car- 
ried on  until  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  in 
1860.  There  were  no  monopolies,  combines, 
trusts,  or  anything  to  excite  jealousy.  The 
poor  merchant  had  no  prejudice  against  the 
rich  planter,  as  it  was  from  this  honest  indus- 
try he  made  his  living. 

We  now  come  to  the  point  of  the  establish- 
ment of  these  plantation  stores  and  how  they 
were  conducted. 

The  first  year  after  the  war  the  western 
men,  who  had  carried  on  this  trade  for  years, 
knew  that  all  the  plantations  on  the  Missis- 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep,  5 

sippi  river  had  been  abandoned  during  the 
war  and  that  the}-  had  no  supplies  to  make  a 
crop.  Thousands  of  bushels  of  corn  were 
brought  down  the  river  and  sold  to  the  plant- 
ers, taking-  their  notes  but  never  collecting- 
them.  It  was  a  donation  from  those  men  who 
had  carried  on  this  interstate  trade.  But  when 
the  carpetbaggers,  negroes,  thieves  and  rob- 
bers got  possession  of  the  country  they  passed 
county  laws  taxing  all  the  craft  that  brought 
supplies  S5  a  day.  whether  they  sold  anything 
or  not,  and  frequently  they  would  be  boarded 
and  robbed  at  night,  cut  loose  from  their 
moorings  and  sent  adrift.  This  compelled 
the  planter  to  have  a  store  on  the  river  or  on 
the  railroad  to  sell  produce  to  their  share 
hands. 

The  freight  was  brought  by  the  railroads 
at  a  heavy  tax,  the  free  cheap  transporta- 
tion of  the  rivers  was  broken  up.  and  the 
planter  had  to  mortgage  his  plantation  and 
stock  and  pledge  his  cotton  to  the  commission 
merchant.  His  share  hands  did  not  often 
make  enough  to  pay  for  what  they  consumed. 


6  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

This  failure  fell  on  the  planter,  and  he  had  to 
renew  his  note  with  heavy  interest  and  bor- 
row for  another  year's  supply.  It  was  not 
long'  before  the  railroads  got  the  lands  mort- 
gaged to  them  for  building  and  equipping. 
They  ran  their  roads  close  to  the  rivers,  so  as 
to  paralyze  the  river  transportation,  which 
was  very  cheap,  and  built  up  monopo- 
lies, trusts  and  combines.  You  now  buy  your 
meat  from  packers  in  Chicago  at  extravagant 
prices,  and  ship  on  railroads  at  as  high 
freights.  This  prevented  the  poor  western 
farmer  from  bringing  his  hogs  and  corn  in 
boats  of  his  own  construction  down  the  rivers, 
where  God  had  given  him  the  right  of  way 
and  his  fellow  man  had  given  him  the  right 
to  interchange  commodities  on  fair  and  honest 
principles.  Had  this  mutual  benefit  trade 
not  have  been  broken  up  by  designing  men, 
the  country  all  along  the  rivers  would  have 
been  in  a  far  better  condition  than  it  is.  The 
western  men  asked  no  mortgages  for  supplies. 
Indeed,  there  were  no  mortgages  or  deeds  of 
trust  on  the  records  in  any  county. 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 


7 


In  the  State  of  Arkansas  there  are  thirty- 
eight  navigable  streams  that  the  government 
has  covenanted  with  the  State  to  keep  the 
channel  clear.  Now,  had  the  general  govern- 
ment carried  out  this  agreement  a  good  navi- 
gable stream  could  have  been  reached  in  a 
shorter  distance  than  forty  miles.  Beautiful 
small  passenger  boats  would  have  plied  their 
waters,  and  the  crafts  and  right  of  way 
would  have  belonged  to  the  people,  and  not  to 
the  millionaire.  For  every  twenty-five  miles 
on  the  river  there  would  have  grown  up  a 
small  flourishing  town,  with  its  churches* 
schools  and  local  trade.  There  would  have 
been  no  mortgages  or  trusts  on  any  farmer's 
land,  nor  would  he  have  been  taxed  to  death 
to  build  and  sustain  railroads.  These  little 
towns  would  have  had  such  social  amuse- 
ments by  amateur  performers  as  they  desired. 
They  would  have  been  content  and  happy 
with  their  surrounding's.  The  farmers  are 
now  induced  by  what  the  railroads  call  cheap 
excursion  fare  to  the  large  cities.  The}T  must 
see  everything  that  is  going-  on  in  the  cities 


8  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

from  a  dog-  show  to  a  prize  fig-ht.  These  are 
all  city  tricks  g-otten  up  to  g-et  the  money  of 
the  farmers  and  laborers,  that  they  may  build 
palaces  for  themselves  with  but  little,  if  any, 
honest  toil. 

Now,  let  us  see  what  Arkansas  has  thrown 
away.  The  greatest  blessing-  God  g-ives  to 
any  state  ;  an  abundance  of  streams  to  trans- 
port all  f  reig-hts,  without  money  or  price.  All 
the  older  states  made  use  of  their  rivers  and 
lakes  to  grind  their  grists,  saw  their  timber, 
and  transport  all  the  produce.  This  water 
power  was  used  until  the  increase  of  popula- 
tion and  multiplied  products  had  increased  to 
such  an  extent  that  the  water  power  was  not 
sufficient  to  carry  on  the  trade. 

Let  us  stop  here  and  put  in  a  line  for  the 
negro,  who  is  now  inhabiting-  the  most  of 
these  lands.  Here  I  will  quote  Moses,  who 
says  in  the  xxiii  chap.,  29th  verse,  of  Exodus  : 
"I  will  not  drive  them  out  from  before  thee 
in  'one  year;'  lest  the  land  become  desolate, 
and  the  beasts  of  the  field  multiply  ag-ainst 
thee;"  30th  verse,  "By  'little  and  little'  I 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  9 

will  drive  them  out  before  thee,  until  thou  be 
increased  and  inherit  the  land." 

Now  the  south  is  pursuing  this  very  course 
with  the  negro.  It  would  not  be  wise  to 
drive  them  off  this  land  in  large  bodies,  lest 
the  large  cotton  plantations  grow  up  with 
forest  growth.  The  white  immigration  south 
will  be  as  slow  as  the  exodus  of  the  negro,  on 
account  of  the  climate  and  indigenous  dis- 
eases. But  the  increase  of  the  southern  whites^ 
with  the  gradual  influx  of  the  western  man,, 
who  understands  the  nature  of  the 
negro  much  better  than  the  north- 
ern man.  these  will  be  principally  the 
occupants  of  the  soil  with  the  southern  man, 
and  the  northern  man  will  gradually  immi- 
grate to  the  west.  The  white  man  is  only 
going  to  change  his  locality  agreeable  to  cir- 
cumstances. The  negro  must  be  content  with 
his  surroundings  until  he  is  gradually  dis- 
placed by  the  white  man  and  colonized  in 
some  other  country.  He  will  not  be  dealt 
with  harshly,  but  allowed  to  accumulate 
property  by  honest  toil  and  industry,  that  he 


10  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

may  be  prepared  to  go  when  the  time  comes 
for  his  departure.  This  will  not  be  done  in  a 
year,  or  perhaps  in  a  quarter  of  a  century,  but 
it  is  the  inevitable.  When  the  rich  bottom 
lands  become  ditched  and  drained,  and  the 
water  utilized,  and  the  country  freed  of  its 
malarial  poison,  then,  and  not  till  then,  will 
these  lands  become  habitable  for  even 
the  southern  white  man.  There  must  and 
will  be  a  survival  of  the  fittest. 

I  have  brought  in  the  foregoing-  page 
more  for  information  than  a  desire  to  "pad  " 
my  narrative. 

I  will  now  come  back  to  the  skiff 
and  give  you  an  account  of  the  voyage 
and  its  shipwreck.  We  must  first  tell  how 
our  craft  was  loaded,  and  what  the  merchan- 
dise. A  large  number  of  goods  boxes,  con- 
taining fabrics  of  light  under  and  upper 
clothing  for  men  and  women,  constituted  the 
bulk  of  the  freight.  The  heavier  articles 
were  placed  in  the  hull  of  the  boat  and  the 
light  boxes  on  top.  This  made  the  skiff  a 
little  top  heavy,   but  by  dividing  our  two 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  11 

weights  we  had  her  well  balanced.  I  took 
my  position  at  the  stern  and  played  steers- 
man. As  I  recollect  the  sun  was  getting 
low  when  we  started,  but  had  sufficient  time 
to  reach  the  landing-  before  dark,  under  ordi- 
nary circumstances.  As  the  skiff  was  loaded 
heavy,  within  an  inch  of  the  water  line,  we 
must  necessarily  keep  in  still  water  as  much 
as  possible.  This  we  did  by  following-  the 
bends  in  the  bank,  which  causes  a  counter 
current  and  turns  the  current  up  stream  until 
it  meets  with  a  projection  in  the  bank  some 
distance  off.  By  this  means,  and  the  dip  of 
the  oars  and  strong-  pull  of  my  ebony  friend,, 
we  were  able  to  g-et  at  a  point  for  crossing 
the  river  opposite  the  store. 

Just  after  we  started  to  get  across,  and  had 
gotten  fairly  into  the  strong  current,  a  dark 
cloud  appeared  in  the  north  and  seemed  to  be 
following  the  course  of  the  river.  The  wind 
now  commenced  rising  and  soon  became  high, 
while  the  cloud  was  gathering  thick  and  fast, 
and  coming  down  the  stream  at  the  velocity 
of  a  hurricane.    We  had  gotten  about  half 


12  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

way  across  the  stream  when  it  struck  us  with 
a  tremendous  force.  The  rain  commenced 
pouring-  down  upon  us,  and  the  blackness  of 
darkness  overshadowed  us.  Just  below  the 
landing-  was  a  large  raft,  which  had  been 
formed  by  falling-  in  trees  from  the  bank. 
This  raft  was  in  one  of  those  coves  in  the 
bank,  and  furnished  a  g-ood  suction  power  for 
the  current.  It  was  to  this  point  we  were 
rapidly  moving-. 

I  said  to  the  man,  "We  are  going'  to  be  en- 
gulfed and  run  under  the  raft  and  lost,  if  you 
do  not  pull  harder."  He  replied,  "My  arms 
have  given  out,  and  I  can  pull  no  long-er." 
The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  before  I 
heard  that  g-urgling-,  roaring-  sound,  so  famil- 
iar to  boatmen  on  any  river  containing-  a  raft. 
In  a  minute  the  bow  of  the  craft  struck  a  tree 
that  lined  the  outside  of  the  raft,  then  the 
skiff  turned  over,  and  the  man  sprang-  to  the 
tree  and  caug-ht  it  with  his  hands,  and  throw- 
ing his  breast  upon  it  was  comparatively  safe, 
as  the  bow  struck  the  tree  and  the  boat 
turned.    I  sprang  into  the  water  and  with  two 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  13 

or  three  strokes  of  my  hands  was  by  the  side 
of  my  partner,  but  only  with  my  hands  upon 
the  tree,  while  the  current  had  taken  my  feet 
under  the  drift.  I  spoke  to  the  man,  telling" 
him  to  g-et  upon  the  loo*,  and  catch  me  by  the 
collar  of  the  coat  and  drag  me  up.  I  said, 
"Be  quick,  or  my  hold  will  give  out.  and  I  will 
go  under  the  drift."  He  sprang-  up  and  did 
as  I  told  him. 

The  boat  had  g*one  under  the  raft  and  the 
g-oods  were  floating-  around,  not  discoverable 
to  our  eyes,  as  it  was  the  blackness  of  dark- 
ness. The  tree  that  we  were  on  was  one  of 
those  larg-e  red  oaks,  which  measured  about 
five  feet  in  diameter  at  the  stump  ;  but  this 
tree  had  no  stump.  It  had  fallen  into  the 
river  by  a  caving  bank,  and  was  firmly 
attached  to  it  bv  some  loner,  strong-  roots. 
Its  body  being-  very  Heavy  it  sank  under  the 
water  about  ten  feet,  while  the  top.  with  the 
upper  part  of  the  trunk,  was  above  the  water. 
We  started  to  get  to  the  bank  and  see  if  we 
could  not  ascend  it,  but  the  water  upon  the 
log-  was  too  deep  to  be  forded,  and  the  bank 


14  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

too  steep  to  be  climbed.  We  returned  to  our 
former  position  ;  and  as  this  was  what  old 
raftsmen  call  a  sawlog — this  kind  of  a  log* 
goes  up  and  down  like  an  old  whipsaw— we 
were  going-  up  and  down  up  to  our  armpits  in 
water  at  every  stroke.  The  rain  had  ceased, 
but  the  wind  was  blowing  furiously.  After 
we  had  been  on  this  log  for  two  or 
three  hours  the  James  Lee  came  down  the 
river,  but  the  wind  was  so  fierce  and  boister- 
ous that  she  did  not  hear  our  hail  and  words 
of  distress,  so  the  boat  passed  by. 

I  had  on  a  heavv  overcoat,  but  this  was  sat- 
urated with  the  cold  river  water,  and  only 
made  me  more  chilly.  We  had  despaired  of 
ever  being  rescued,  as  we  knew  that  the  roots 
might  give  way  at  any  time,  and  the  whole 
raft  would  be  broken  loose  and  we  would  be 
drowned.  While  in  this  condition  it  gave  us 
time  to  meditate  upon  the  uncertainty  of  life 
and  the  certainty  of  death.  Whatever  reli- 
gious thoughts  may  have  occupied  our  minds 
at  that  time  cannot  be  recalled  at  this  mo- 
ment. 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  15 

About  2  o'clock  in  the  morning-  the  Bayou- 
sard,  a  large  boat  belonging*  to  the  St.  Louis 
Packet  Company,  came  down.  By  this  time 
the  rain  had  ceased  but  the  wind  was  still 
high.  We  were  being  tossed  up  and  down 
on  the  tree,  and  as  our  head  was  lifted  high 
above  the  water  we  came  to  the  conclusion  it 
was  a  good  time  to  give  our  cry  of  distress, 
expanding  our  chests  to  their  utmost  capa- 
city. I  gave  the  crowning*  cry  of  my  life.  I 
have  stood  on  the  side  of  a  high  hill  in  my 
boyhood  days  and  called  the  cows,  but  this 
was  the  best  effort  of  my  life. 

A  lady,  finding  it  necessary  at  that  hour  of 
the  night  to  visit  the  rear  of  the  boat,  heard 
the  words  of  distress,  so  plaintive,  yet  so 
clear,  caught  them  and  ran  to  the  clerk's 
office  and  told  him  that  some  one  was  in  great 
distress,  at  the  same  time  repeating  the 
words  she  had  heard.  The  clerk  being-  a  Ma- 
son,  he  immediately  spoke  to  the  pilot,  the 
pilot  to  the  captain,  and  immediately  the 
whistle  of  distress  was  given.  No  sound  ever 
struck  our  ears  so  welcome  as  this.    No,  not 


16  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

even  the  cry  of  our  first  born.  As  the  night 
was  very  dark,  even  to  blackness,  the  electric 
lights  had  to  be  thrown  out.  But  as  we  were 
three  miles  above,  and  in  a  cove  shadowed  by 
the  large  oak  trees,  we  could  not  be  discovered. 
As  the  boat  moved  slowly  up,  searching  at 
almost  every  paddle  wheel's  rotation,  she 
espied  us,  but  as  stated  before,  the  small  drift- 
wood had  caught  around  the  tree  and  ex- 
tended a  considerable  distance  in  the  river. 
If  she  had  attempted  to  come  close  to  us  she 
would  have  broken  the  drift  loose  and  we 
would  have  been  lost;  but  the  captain  was  too 
good  a  river  man,  and  the  pilot  too  anxious  to 
save  the  life  of  his  brother  Mason,  and  he  came 
cautiously  in  sight  of  the  two  persons,  as  we 
were  lifted  up  and  down  on  the  tree. 

Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  forma- 
tion of  rafts  on  the  Mississippi  river  know 
that  light  driftwood  collects  to  a  great  dis- 
tance into  the  stream,  and  when  disturbed  the 
entire  mass  breaks  loose.  Knowing  this  fact 
I  was  in  doubt  as  to  whether  our  rescuers 
were  going  to  speedily  put  an  end  to  our  ex- 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  17 

istence  or  prolong-  our  lives  a  span  longer. 
But  this  anxiety  was  relieved  when  we  heard 
the  captain  give  the  order  to  lower  the  yawl 
and  advance  slowly  to  the  scene.  The  mate 
took  a  large  lantern  in  his  hand,  and  not  get- 
ting near  enough  for  us  to  board  the  yawl, 
cried  out,  "I  will  throw  this  rope  to  you,  and 
you  can  catch  it,  and  I  will  pull  you  through 
the  water,  or  you  can  drown,  d — n  you."  I 
answered,  "Throw  the  rope,  and  I  will  catch 
it  if  I  can."  My  hands  were  so  numb  from 
being  in  the  water  so  long  that  I  had  some 
doubts  as  to  my  ability  of  keeping  my  grasp. 
The  rope  was  thrown  and  I  seized  it  with  a 
death  grasp.  The  mate  pulled  me  through 
the  water  and  dragged  me  into  the  yawl. 
Upon  observing  my  face,  which  he  had  illu- 
minated with  his  lantern,  he  cried  out,  "God 
forgive  me,  old  man;  I  thought  it  was  a  nig- 
ger. ' '  I  was  so  stiff  I  was  unable  to  stand, 
but  said  to  him,  "Throw  your  line  out  again 
and  save  my  faithful  colored  friend."  He  did 
so,  and  he  also  was  dragged  in,  but  as  he  was 
young  and  strong  he  had  not  sulf  ered  so  much 


18  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

from  the  cold.  The  yawl  was  then  rowed  to 
the  boat  and  I  was  lifted  out  and  placed  under 
the  boilers,  as  it  was  the  best  place  to  heat 
me  up  and  give  the  ladies  a  chance  of  drench- 
ing- me  with  brandy  and  rubbing-  my  almost 
palsied  hands  and  feet  from  the  ice  cold  water 
— that  is  to  me  it  felt  that  cold.  The  captain 
came  down  and  expressed  much  anxiety  about 
my  condition,  telling-  the  ladies  that  anything- 
they  needed  to  let  him  know,  and  he  would 
instantly  furnish  it.  They  told  him  to  send 
up  and  g-et  the  blankets  off  their  beds  to  wrap 
me  up,  as  a  cold  shiver  was  passing-  over  my 
entire  body,  and  I  was  shaking  like  one  who 
had  the  shaking-  palsy.  The  boat  was  held 
at  anchor  while  I  was  being*  restored,  not  a 
wheel  was  moving*  nor  the  audible  escape  of 
steam.  After  I  became  sufficiently  restored 
the  captain  asked  me  where  I  wished  to  g*o, 
stating-  at  the  same  time,  if  I  wished  to  g-o  up 
the  river,  he  would  turn  his  boat  up  stream 
and  take  me  to  where  I  could  be  transferred 
on  an  upstream  boat.  I  told  him  that  I  was  a 
citizen  of  Helena,  and  the  landing-  he  had 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  19 

passed  was  my  landing*.  He  said.  "Yes,  I 
have  discharged  many  tons  of  freight  at  that 
landing-,  but  neyer  saw  you  before."  My  an- 
swer was  that  I  did  not  live  there:  only 
owned,  it.  At  this  time,  as  well  as  I  can  rec- 
ollect, it  was  about  4  o'clock  in  the  morning-. 
I  told  him  to  take  me  to  Helena  and  put  me 
off  on  the  wharfboat.  where  I  could  remain 
until  morning.  He  asked  me  if  he  would  send 
out  and  get  a  hack  ;  did  I  think  I  was  strong- 
enough  to  be  taken  home.  I  said.  "I  think 
I  am  captain,  but  I  do  not  want  to  put  you  to 
so  much  trouble,  as  I  Have  already  detained 
your  boat  so  long.  He  said,  "It is  no  trouble, 
no  trouble,  sir;  you  are  a  Mason,  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  hold  this  boat  and  the  whole  crew 
until  you  are  safe  in  the  hands  of  your 
friends."'  I  told  him  to  send  for  the  hack 
and  I  would  make  the  trip  to  my  sister's 
Mrs.  O' Conner,  as  my  wife  was  in  Jackson, 
Miss.,  and  there  was  no  one  at  home.  I  had 
become  perfectly  thawed  in  this  time  from 
the  rubbing  and  brandy  the  ladies  had  given 
me,  so  much  so  that  they  could  remove  their 


20  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

shawls  which  were  wrapped  close  tt>  my 
body;  and  here,  let  me  remark,  that  my  body 
was  never  wrapped  in  such  elegant  shawls 
nor  will  ever  be  again. 

After  becoming-  conscious  and  the  better 
part  of  my  nature  returning-,  the  words  of 
the  poet  came  forcibly  to  my  mind: 

"Oh,  woman,  in  our  hours  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  light  quivering-  shade  ; 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring-  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thou." 

The  clerk  was  now  sent  out  to  procure  a 
hack.  The  stable  was  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  the  landing*,  and  as  it  was  at  that  hour 
when  all  thing's  are  still  in  a  small  town,  not 
even  a  chanticleer  was  flopping-  his  wing's  and 
g-iving-  the  morning-'s  alarm,  he  had  to  foot  it. 
He  made  the  trip  in  double  quick,  and  before 
we  thoug-ht  he  had  time  to  g-et  to  the  stable 
he  was  back  with  the  hack.  The  captain  and 
the  clerk  took  me  under  the  arms  and  helped 
me  into  the  carriag-e.  The  captain  then  said 
to  the  clerk,  "Go  with  him,  and  don't  leave 
him  until  you  deliver  him  safe  into  the  hands 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  21 

of  his  friends,  and  there  is  no  need  to  be  in  a 
hurry."  When  the  door  bell  rang-  at  that 
hour  it  alarmed  my  sister,  as  she  was  not 
looking-  for  a  visitor  at  so  unseasonable  an 
hour.  The  clerk,  with  her  assistance,  took 
me  into  the  hall,  and  after  g-iving-  her  a  brief 
history  of  my  serious  adventure,  took  his 
leave  by  giving-  me  the  sig-n  of  a  Master  Ma- 
son, the  parting-  farewell  so  familiar  to  the 
craft. 

The  next  morning-  about  daybreak  some 
neg-roes  were  passing-  the  wreck  of  our  unfor- 
tunate craft,  and  seeing-  it  turned  upside 
down,  with  the  boxes  of  dry  g-oods  floating* 
around  the  raft,  concluded  we  were  drowned 
and  perhaps  under  the  raft.  They  hastened 
to  the  ferry  landing*  and  g-ave  the  alarm. 
This  was  also  carried  to  Friar's  Point. 

The  little  town  of  Helena  was  in  a  great 
state  of  excitement,  but  not  more  so  than  they 
would  have  been  had  it  been  some  one  else 
who  had  passed  through  such  a  trag-ic  scene. 

But  one  of  the  wharf  boat  men  had  a  sick 
friend  aboard  the  boat,  for  whom  he  wished  to 


22 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 


procure  some  medicine,  and  while  the  Bayou- 
sard  was  waiting-  for  the  return  of  the  clerk, 
he  walked  up  to  Grant's  drugstore  and  gave 
the  details  of  my  adventure.  But  before  the 
news  of  my  safety  could  be  made  known,  the 
negroes  first  spoken  of  had  spread  it  over  the 
village,  and  many  friends  were  up  and  hast- 
ening to  the  wharf  to  hear  the  news.  By 
this  time  Mr.  Grant  had  gotten  out  and 
quieted  their  fears  by  telling  them  that  I  was 
safe  and  at  my  sister's. 

Now  to  wind  up  a  long  story,  not  as  inter- 
esting to  my  readers  as  it  was  to  me,  and  I 
might  here  bring  in  the  old  obsolete  word, 
"extra  dictionary,"  to  express  its  signifi- 
cance— not  words  but  facts. 

The  day  after  my  escape  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure and  extreme  gratification  to  read  my 
obituary  in  three  papers — The  Memphis  Ap- 
peal, the  Friar's  Point  Sun  and  an  Austin, 
Miss.,  paper,  the  name  of  which  I  have  for- 
gotten. All  these  papers  said  many  good 
things  about  me,  which  a  dead  man  never 
hears,  but  which  gratify  his  friends  and  rela- 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  23 

tives.  You  know,  my  reader,  that  a  live  man 
never  has  many  g*ood  things  said  about  him, 
unless  he  is  a  politician. 

But  the  Helena  World  had  a  short  contra- 
dictory notice,  which  I  enjoyed  more  than  the 
obituaries.  The  stroke  of  the  pen  in  their  re- 
traction was  not  as  eulogistic  as  in  the  obitu- 
aries, for  a  live  eye  was  to  look  upon  these  lines. 

If  I  have  brought  in  my  plantation  and 
store,  it  is  not  for  the  purpose  of  making-  my 
readers  believe  that  I  was  a  rich  planter  or 
even  a  well  to  do  merchant,  for  I  can  assure 
them  it  is  with  feelings  of  mortified  pride  that 
I  have  to  acknowledge  the  rich  planter  now  a 
poor  doctor,  who  is  now  driving  his  pen  for  a 
living.     "Sic  transit  gloria  mundi." 

In  counting  over  the  words  I  have  written, 
I  find  there  is  less  than  four  thousand,  which 
is  not  enough  to  make  a  booklet  of  respect- 
able size.  I  have,  therefore,  concluded  to  add 
the  following,  not  for  the  purpose  of  "pad- 
ding ' '  my  book,  as  critics  would  say,  but  for 


24  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

the  purpose  of  giving-  some  more  interesting* 
information  of  my  early  Masonic  life. 

In  the  year  1850,  some  time  in  April,  a 
couple  of  young-  Masons  came  in  a  canoe  to 
my  office.  The  water  of  the  great  Missis- 
sippi river  had  spread  itself  several  feet  over 
the  land  at  this  point — Helena,  Ark. — and  all 
communication  had  to  be  carried  on  throug-h 
the  medium  of  skiff  and  canoe. 

Well,  as  I  said  before,  the  two  young- 
Masons  entered  the  office  at  8  o'clock  at  nig-ht 
and  informed  me  in  a  jocular  way  that  they 
had  orders  to  take  me  a  prisoner  and  carry  me 
to  the  Masonic  hall  for  trial,  for  some  thing-s  I 
had  been  doing*.  They  read  no  indictment  to 
me,  nor  even  a  written  summons.  I  asked 
what  I  had  done,  but  they  g*ave  me  no  satis- 
factory answer,  but  said,  "  We  won't  hurt 
you."  Not  knowing  what  I  was  going-  to  be 
tried  for,  but  having  a  conscience  void  of 
offense  towards  my  fellow  men,  if  I  had  not 
towards  my  God,  I  consented  to  go. 

When  I  reached  the  hall  I  was  told  that  I 
had  been  elected  to  the  Entered  Apprentice 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  25 


degree  of  Masons,  and  that  they  were  now 
read\-  to  confer  that  degree,  if  I  could  satis- 
factorily answer  certain  questions  the}'  would 
propound.  The  questions  were  asked  and  the 
answers  returned  acceptably. 

The  degree  was  conferred  after  the  solemn 
services  of  this  mystic  order. 

But  before  I  took  the  degree  my  eyes  were 
permitted  to  look  around  the  hall  and  dis- 
cover what  was  there.  The  hall,  a  room  18x20 
feet,  was  an  upper  story  over  Bill  Bivens'  little 
printing-  office.  As  it  was  cold  and  chilly  at 
this  time,  a  fire  was  made  in  the  old  smoky 
stove,  and  I  and  all  the  rest  were  shedding 
tears  as  thoug"h  we  had  lost  all  our  relatives 
and  friends.  My  eyes  became  partly  dimmed, 
but  by  the  feeble  light  of  the  tallow  candles 
I  was  able  to  survey  and  observe  the  contents 
of  the  room.  A  goods  box  was  on  the 
eastern  side.  It  was  covered  with  a  white 
cloth,  trimmed  with  cotton  lace,  which  fell  in 
festoons  over  the  box.  Upon  this  box  was  a 
gavel  made  of  a  knot,  taken  from  an  old  oak 
tree,  and  fashioned  by  the  hands  of  what  I 


26  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

supposed  was  an  apprentice,  as  it  was  very 
rough.  Just  back  of  this  box  sat  a  grave  and 
dignified  personage,  with  his  hat  on,  and  this 
gavel  in  his  hands.  The  chair  he  sat  on  was 
not  the  chair  of  state.  It  was  a  large  split 
bottom  chair,  made  somewhat  larger  than 
those  in  use,  perhaps  to  hold  the  royal  dignity 
of  him  who  was  to  occupy  it,  until  it  should 
be  replaced  by  one  of  more  modern  style. 
There  were  benches  placed  on  either  side  of 
the  room  for  the  accommodation  of  the  craft. 
About  the  center  of  the  room  stood  another 
goods  box,  not  so  large  as  the  first,  but  suffi- 
ciently large  to  hold  a  man  of  huge  propor- 
tions. This  was  the  altar  upon  which  my 
sacrifice  was  to  be  offered.  Before  I  came 
from  this  altar  I  did  not  know  whether  the 
room  was  filled  with  smoke,  or  whether  the 
sun  was  shining  or  the  moon  was  shedding 
her  soft  rays  upon  the  earth,  or  whether  she 
was  sending  her  soft  yellow  rays  through  the 
cracks  of  the  roof  of  the  house  to  assist  the 
tallow  candles  in  throwing  light  upon  the 
sublime  scene.    No,  I  was  mentally  bound  by 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  27 


obligations  too  serious  for  me  to  write  and 
too  sacred  for  me  to  utter.  Well,  I  was 
made  an  Apprentice  Mason.  My  mind  was 
long-  spellbound  trying-  to  remember  those 
beautiful  sentences  and  sublime  thoughts.  I 
learned  that  Masonry  did  not  consist  in  out- 
ward show.  It  did  not  value  a  man  for  his 
learning-  or  his  position  in  society.  It  did  not 
value  him  for  his  worldly  wealth  or  honors, 
but  for  the  intrinsic  value  of  his  character. 
To  me  all  the  colors  of  a  rainbow  had  ap- 
peared, and  I  had  made  a  new  covenant  with 
my  Maker  never  to  be  broken. 

You  see,  my  dear  reader,  that  I  hold  fast  to 
my  native  tong-ue.  I  think  many  writers 
would  do  well  to  observe  this  rule  and  g-ive  us 
less  French  and  Germanized  literature.  It  is 
not  comprehensive,  it  is  not  expressive. 

I  will  now  undertake  to  describe  the  ad- 
vance of  this  rough,  smoky,  primitive  build- 
ing, and  you  will  discover  that  as  society  pro- 
gressed and  prosperity  increased,  so  did  the 
members  of  the  craft  add  to  their  stock  of 
Masonic  learning,  "pari  posu.  " 


28  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 


The  number  of  members  at  this  time  was,  I 
think,  about  eig-hteen  on  the  records  of  the 
lodg-e,  and  I  think  my  memory  serves  me  rig*ht, 
as  I  was  treasurer  in  this  year. 

In  about  the  year  1854  this  crude  building- 
had  merg-ed  into  a  beautiful  structure,  built 
after  modern  style,  and  the  hall  furnished 
after  the  richest  oriental  paraphernalia  of 
King-  Solomon's  temple. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  the  outfit,  as 
it  can  be  seen  in  all  the  Masonic  halls  of 
wealthy  communities  in  the  present  day. 

Its  members  grew  from  eig-hteen  to  one 
hundred  and  fifty-seven  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  civil  war.  It  embraced  some  of  the  most 
notable  characters  in  eastern  Arkansas,  nota- 
bly, T.  B.  Hanley,  James  C.  Tappan,  Chas. 
W.  Adams,  Rog-er  F.  Sutton,  P.  R.  Cleburne 
and  other  lawyers.  The  physicians  were 
Hector  M.  Grant,  John  W.  Glenn,  Jonas 
Smith  and  C.  E.  Nash;  and  the  merchants, 
H.  P.  Coolidg-e,  A.  J.  Lote,  Wm.  Myrtle, 
Jesse  Jackson.  Citizens  of  various  occupa- 
tions, Henry  L.  Biscoe,   William  F.  Moore 


Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep.  29 

and  others  whose  names  I  do  not  remember. 
But  I  do  remember  that  conscientious,  active, 
enthusiastic  Mason,  first  in  every  movement 
for  g-ood  in  the  craft,  the  merchant  tailor, 
Mortimer  Piatt.  These  were  the  Masons 
that  belonged  to  the  order  in  the  primitive 
days  of  Masonry  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
state. 

In  1849  Arthur  J.  Lote  was  master  and  in 
1850  William  C.  Myrtle  occupied  the  oriental 
chair.  At  this  time  there  was  no  Royal  Arch 
Chapter.  I  think  it  was  in  1852  that  Albert 
Pike  organized  a  chapter  and  conferred  the 
Royal  Arch  degree  on  a  class  consisting-  of  H. 
M.  Grant,  Patrick  Ronane  Cleburne  and  C.  E. 
Nash.  Pike  left  us  without  instruction 
and  it  was  several  months  before  work 
could  be  done  in  this  degree.  The  lodg-e  and 
chapter  united  their  means  and  sent  to  Cin- 
cinati  for  the  Grand  Master  of  the  State  of 
Ohio,  a  Mr.  Chapman,  as  I  recollect.  We 
eng-ag-ed  him  for  the  winter  to  lecture  to  us. 
He  had  a  larg-e  class  and  he  performed  his 
duty  well.    At  the  close  of  his  eng-ag*ed  time, 


30  Eight  Hours  in  the  Fresh  Water  Deep. 

which  was  in  the  spring-  of  1853,  he  had  the 
brightest  Masons  in  the  state,  and  he  con- 
gratulated us  on  our  constant  attention  and 
aptness  for  learning-.  This  lodg-e  took  the 
lead  in  the  state  until  1856,  when  the  Grand 
Lodg-e  placed  a  reg-ular  stipend  on  all  the 
lodg-es  to  support  St.  John's  College.  Lafay- 
ette Lodg-e  No.  16,  for  that  was  the  name 
and  number  at  this  time,  entered  her  protest 
and  refused  to  pay  the  assessed  amount, 
olfering-  at  the  same  time  double  the  amount 
as  a  voluntary  donation.  The  Grand  Lodg-e 
refused  to  accept  and  ordered  our  charter 
taken  from  us.  We  submitted  to  this  rather 
than  submit  to  what  we  thoug-ht  an  arbitrary 
proclamation.  The  charter  was  restored  in 
1866,  but  the  number  was  chang-ed  to  eig-hty- 
seven.  The  beautiful  hall  was  burned  down 
by  the  federals  in  1863,  while  they  occupied 
the  city  of  Helena,  and  all  its  handsome  equip- 
ments, with  its  charter,  destroyed  by  the 
hands  of  those  who  knew  not  what  they  did. 


THE 


Status  of  the  Negro, 

From  a  Negro 's  Standpoint, 
In  His  Own  Dialect. 


A  THRILLING  TRAGEDY 

In  the  Days  of  Reconstruction . 


ANNIVERSARY  OF  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH 
BIRTHDAY. 

Read  before  the  Little  Rock  Medical  Society. 


DR.  CHARLES  E.  XASH, 

LITTLE  ROCK,  ARK. 


little  rock,  ark.: 
Press  of  Tuxxah  &  Pittard. 
1900. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1900, 
By  DR.  CHARLES  E.  NASH, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C 


Photographs  for  illustrations  were  taken  by  Little  Rock's  most  accomplished 
artist,  Mr.  T.  B.  Rayburn,  612  Scott  street. 


THE  STATDS  OF  THE  NEGRO, 


FROM  A  NEGRO'S  STANDPOINT,  IN  HIS 
OWN  DIALECT. 


A  COUNTRY  NEGRO  VISITS  THE  CITY  AND  TAKES  IN 
THE  SURROUNDINGS. —  HIS  CONVERSATION  AF- 
TER HIS  RETURN. 

Well,  old  'oman,  I  seed  de  nig-g-ers  in  dat  city. 
De  fus'  man  I  sees  say  he  de  preacher  of  de  gospel. 
He  dressed  up  like  de  white  g-emmen  in  de  old  times. 
He  had  de  broad  clof  coat  old  master  used  to  wa\  I 
bet  dat  nigger  done  stole  dat  coat  from  some  white 
g-emman,  kase  you  know  dat  in  old  times  po'  white 
trash  couldn't  wa'  nuffin  but  homespun  jeens.  Den 
he  g-ot  de  same  collar  on.  'Twas  so  higvh  it  come  to 
liis  ears,  an'  I  speck  de  nig-g-er  had  his  ears  insured, 
kase  dey  stan'  in  dang-er  of  bein'  cut  off  by  de  collar. 
Den  he  g-ot  a  long-  white  rag-  tied  roun'  his  neck,  an' 
on  his  nappy  head  he  g-ot  a  two  story  hat,  an'  under 
dat  hat  he  g-ot  a  great  big*  flat  nose  an'  thick  lips,  an' 
de  red  ob  de  lips  outshine  de  redhot  color  ob  de  fire. 


4 


THE  STATUS  OF  THE  NEGRO, 


Den  de  white  ob  his  eyes  shine  like  two  pewter  plates 
stuck  in  a  black  stump.  An'  when  he  speak  he  cotch 
his  bref  an'  spout  out  froth  like  dey  say  Jona  did  when 
he  in  de  whale's  belly. 

Den  I  goes  to  hear  'im  preach  in  de  big-  church,  an* 
he  open  his  mouf  wide  an'  holler  so  loud  dat  he  bring 
de  blood  from  my  ears.  Now,  old  'oman,  Jesus  Christ 
did  not  holler  dat  loud  when  he  preach  under  dat  big- 
oak  tree  to  five  thousand  folks.  Den  de  women  dey 
commenced  sing-in',  and  dey  like  to  take  de  roof  off 'n 
de  house.  Now  dey  keep  dat  up  all  day  an'  nig-ht,  till 
de  chicken  cock  tell  dem  to  g-o  home — it's  time  to  go 
to  work.  Den  he  'duced  me  to  he  wife.  He  say, 
"Jim,  dis  my  wife."  I  say,  "Whar  dat  odder  'owan 
you  got?"  He  say,  "I  aint  got  no  odder."  I  say, 
4 'I  know  better  den  dat ;  kase  all  niggers  are  'lowed 
two  wives,  an'  de  preachers  dey  'lowed  mo'." 

Den  de  next  nigger  I  see  tells  me  he's  a  politi- 
tioner,  an'  he  stan's  on  side  de  street  an'  say  he  gwine 
vote  for  'Kinley,  kase  he  set  de  nig'ger  free.  Says  I, 
"  'Kinley  didn't  do  dat.  God  A'mighty  set  de  nigger 
free,  and  tells  'im  to  '  root,  little  pig,  or  die. '  But  de 
nigger  beat  God  A'mighty  dat  time,  for  he  say,  'I 
gwine  steal  ;  dat's  easier  dan  work.'  "  Well,  dis  nig- 
ger say:  "Dat's  what  I  want.  Don't  you  know 
when  we  used  to  go  out  nights  and  steal  de  white 
folks'  chickens  an'  hogs?    Now  I'se  gwine  to  Con- 


FROM  A  NEGRO'S  STANDPOINT.  5 

gress,  an'  I'll  pass  a  law  dat  niggers  who  steal  chick- 
ens shall  draw  a  pension  for  de  balance  ob  deir  lives." 
Now  if  I  vote  for  dis  nigger,  befo'  he  gone  to  Congress 


THE  NEGRO  FARMER. 

de  white  folks  have  me  in  the  penitentiary,  an'  I's 
workin'  harder  an'  g*it  mo'  whippin's  dan  I  did  in  de 
slavery  time. 


6 


THE  STATUS  OF  THE)  NEGRO, 


Now  comes  anodder  nig-g-er,  an'  he  say  He  de 
teacher.  He  lams  de  little  nig-g-er  to  chang-e  his  skin 
an'  put  on  de  white  skin.  I  say,  "  Teacher,  you  ain't 
g-ot  de  sense  you  been  bo'n  wid.  Don't  you  know  de 
Book  say  de  African  can't  chang-e  his  skin  ?  Den  how 
you  g-wine  do  it?"  "I  jest  tell  you  how  we  g-wine  do 
it.  We  sends  'em  to  Paris  wid  de  white  ladies  an' 
have  'em  done  over. "  Now  I  done  ax  dis  nig-g-er  what 
he's  kickin'  'bout  de  white  folks  for  when  he  wants  to 
make  de  nig-g-er  white. 

Now  I  g-oes  to  de  colleg-e  to  see  de  little  nig-g-ers,  how 
dey  does.  De  fust  thing-  I  sees  is  all  de  boys  marchin' 
two  by  two  down  de  steps,  den  comes  de  g-als  de  same 
way.  Den  dey  g-o  into  de  rooms  an'  sets  down  on  de 
benches  wid  de  hig-h  backs,  fernent  a  little  table. 
Dey  so  fine  dey  dunno  how  to  'habe  deirselves,  for  dey 
jes'  look  at  me  like  I  some  wild  beast.  Dey  ain't  g-ot 
de  manners  dey  been  born  wid  in  de  old  slavery  times. 

Now  I  say  to  de  principal :  "I  wants  to  ax  you  a 
few  questions.  I  sees  you  have  de  big-  house  an'  all  de 
'purtenances  dareto  belong-in'.  Where  dey  all  come 
from?  I  say  in  old  slave  times  I  used  to  g-o  wid  my 
young-  master  to  school  to  tote  his  basket  dat  he  eat 
his  dinner  outen.  Den  arter  he  eat  I  g-it  de  balance, 
an'  de  balance  was  mo'n  you  have  at  your  fine  table. 
Now,  Mr.  Teacher,  de  school  house  was  three  miles 
from  Master's  big-  house,  an'  de  boy  walks  it  every 


FROM  A  NEGRO'S  STANDPOINT. 


7 


day  in  de  week  'cept  Saturdays.  Den  de  school  house 
was  a  roun'  log  cabin  wid  a  rough  plank  floor.  I  hear 
de  chilluns  'cite  de  lessons  to  de  teacher,  an'  dey  was 


smart  little  boys  an'  g*als,  an'  when  dey  misbehave  de 
teacher  he  comes  down  on  dem  wid  de  switch  he  keep 
in  de  corner  for  deir  benefit.     Xow   dese  chilluns 


8 


THE  STATUS  OF  THE)  NEGRO, 


grow  up  an'  dey  make  smart  men  and  women."  Den 
I  says  :  "How  'tis  dat  dese  chilluns  make  such  smart 
people  when  dey  gwine  to  school  in  de  cabin?  I  don't 
see  dat  dese  chilluns  gwine  make  no  better  folks  dan 
Master's,  kase  you  know  Daniel  Webster,  Clay  an' 
Calhoun  went  to  school  in  dese  cabins.  Now  if  dey 
don't,  den  I  say  it's  not  de  fine  college  dat  make  de 
man  an'  de  'oman,  but  de  brains  dat's  in  deir  heads. 
Now,  Mr.  Teacher,  I  done  ax  you  dis  question  :  If 
de  brains  is  not  in  de  nigger's  head  can  de  fine  college 
put  'em  dar?  Answer  me  dat  question."  He  say, 
"No."  Den  I  say:  "What's  de  use  castin' pearls 
'fore  swine,  like  young  Master  read  in  de  good  book." 
Den  I  ax  him  how  he  got  all  dis  fine  stuff.  He  say 
dey  git  it  outen  de  white  folks'  taxes.  Den  I  ax  him 
who  make  de  law  to  git  de  money  outen  de  white  folks. 
He  say  de  white  folks  do  it  deirselves.  Den  I  say  de 
white  folks  must  be  mighty  good  to  de  nigger  to  give 
him  sich  a  fine  college  when  he  done  let  his  own  chil- 
luns go  to  school  in  de  log  cabin. 

Den  I  say  :  "Don't  you  think  dese  little  niggers 
better  be  home  workin'  in  de  truck  patch  makin' 
somethin'  to  put  in  deir  hungry  bellies  dan  to  be  here 
puttin' all  in  de  head?  When  you  see  dese  chilluns 
comin'  'round  jes'  look  out  for  de  tater  patch,  for  dey 
done  larn  to  steal  by  science,  an'  you  can't  cotch 
'em." 


FROM  A  NEGRO'S  STANDPOINT. 


9 


"  Now,  Mr.  Teacher,  I  g-wine  ax  you  dis  question  : 
My  nabor  he  got  a  mule  dat's  smarter  dan  any  ob  you 
chilluns.  He  g-wine  stay  m  de  woods  all  day,  an' 
when  nig-ht  come  he  g-wine  throw  down  de  fence  an' 


the;  negro  professor. 


let  hisself  in  de  co'n  field,  an'  all  de  stock  dat  is  in  de 
neig-hborhood  done  larn  to  follow  him,  so  he  takes  all 
in  wid  him,  an'  dey  destroy  ten  acres  ob  co'n  dat 
nig-ht.    Next  mornin'  when  de  nabor  wake  up  he  find 


10 


THE  STATUS  OF  THE  NEGRO, 


all  de  stock  in  de  field,  but  de  old  mule  he  gone.  He 
lay  in  de  woods  hid  in  de  bushes  till  night  conies,  den 
he  gwine  do  de  same  thing-.  Now  what  you  say  ought 
to  be  done  widdat  mule  ?  Kill  him,  ob  co'se.  No,  dat 
won't  do,  kase  he  good  to  work,  an'  make  plenty  for 
hisself  an'  de  whole  family." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  do  wid  him,  Jim  ?  " 

"I  say  keep  dat  mule  in  de  lot.  Make  de  fence 
ten  rails  high,  an'  stake-an'-rider  it  so  he  can't  git 
out  ;  den  he  be  useful  an'  can't  steal,  Den  let  de 
white  folks  keep  de  nigger  at  home,  an'  don't  turn  'em 
out  to  come  to  town  and  steal  people's  stuff.  Keep 
him  in  his  place  ;  dat's  what  I  say." 

From  de  college  I's  gwine  down  town  to  see  what's 
down  dar.  So  I  comes  to  de  big  store.  I  walks  in 
an'  looks  all  round  an'  sees  all  de  pretty  things.  I 
'mired  a  heap  on  'em.  Den  I  looks  at  de  hankerchers, 
an'  I  see  one  great  big  red  one  dey  use  to  call  de  ban- 
dana. So  I  looks  dis  way  an'  den  dat  way,  an'  I  sees 
de  man  lookin'  at  de  ladies,  so  my  hands  stick  to  de 
hankercher  so  fast  dat  I  can't  let  it  loose,  so  I  pick  it 
up  an'  put  it  in  my  pocket.  I  den  turn  to  walk  out  de 
door,  when  de  man  at  de  door  say,  ' '  Stop — you  stole 
my  hankercher. "  I  say,  * '  No  ;  I  got  no  hankercher. 
Den  he  run  his  hands  in  my  pocket  an'  bring  out  de 
hankercher.  I  say,  "Dat  hankercher  done  jump  in 
my  pocket  befo'  I  knows  it."     But  he  say,  "Stand 


FROM  A  NEGRO'S  STANDPOINT. 


11 


here,"  an'  lie  call  anodder  man  an'  say,  "'Rest  him; 
he  stole  a  hankercher  from  me."  Den  he  show  de  man 
de  hankercher,  an'  he  says,   "Come  go  wid  me. "  I 


THE  NEGRO  LAWYER. 


tell  him,  " 'Sense  me,  please  sir;  I  hain't  got  time, 
kase  de  train  gwine  start  soon. ' '  He  cotch  me  by  de 
arm  an'  say,  "I'm  gwine  take  you  to  de  lockup." 


12 


THE  STATUS  OF  THE)  NEGRO, 


Well,  he  takes  me  to  what  dey  calls  de  jail,  an' 
keep  me  dar  all  night,  wid  nuffin  to  lay  on  nor  nuffin 
to  eat.  Next  mornin'  he  take  me  to  what  he  call  de 
magister.  Den  jes'  as  I'm  gwine  in  a  big-  fat  nigger 
say,  "I'm  a  lawyer,  an'  I  git  you  outen  dis  scrape  for 
five  dollars."  I  say,  "I  got  no  five  dollars,  neider 
can  you  get  me  outen  dis  scrape,  kase  de  white  man 
put  me  in,  an'  he  got  mo'  sense  dan  you." 

Now  de  magister  say,  "Jim,  you  are  charged  wid 

stealin'  a  hankercher  from  Mr.  .    Are  you 

guilty  or  not  guilty?"  I  say,  "What  you  mean  by 
dat  word  guilty  ?  ' '  The  magister  'splained  :  ' '  Guilty 
means  dat  you  stole  de  hankercher."  "No,  sir;  de 
man  done  got  de  hankercher  hisself,  kase  he  took  it 
outen  my  pocket. "  "Den  you  stole  it."  "How's  I 
gwine  steel  it  when  I  didn't  take  it  away?  De  man 
got  it  now."  "But  you  intended  to  take  it  away." 
"Den  I  got  to  be  tried  for  de  'tention  an'  not  for  de 
hankercher.  Den  I  leave  de  'tention  wid  you  an'  de 
hankercher  wid  de  man,  an'  I  goes  home  to  tell  de  old 
'oman. "  "But  stop,"  says  de  Squire,  "dere  is  a 
cost  in  dis  suit  of  three  dollars  you  must  pay."  "I's 
tell  you  de  hankercher  cost  me  nuffin,  an'  I  takes  no 
suit;  dey 're  all  in  de  store  now."  "Well,  Jim,  you 
must  go  back  to  jail  or  pay  de  cost.  If  you  haven't 
got  de  money  you  must  work  it  out  on  de  streets." 
"I's  got  no  money  kase  I  bought  a  round  trip  ticket." 


FROM  A  NEGRO'S  STANDPOINT. 


13 


Now  I  goes  to  work  on  de  streets.  De  man  what 
goes  'long-  wid  me  he  have  a  cudgel  :n  his  hand,  an' 
he  say,  "Step  quick,  Jim,  or  I'll  whack  you  over  de 
head."  I  say,  "Dat's  mo'n  de  overseer  say  when  I 
was  a  slave.  Now  I's  free,  sir,  and  you  shan't  talk  to 
me  dat  wTay. "  I  stops  and  squares  myself,  when  he 
take  de  cudgel  an'  fotch  me  sich  a  lick  dat  I'll  'mem- 
ber it  all  my  life.  So  I  goes  at  what  de  solders  say  is 
double  quick.  I  works  out  de  six  days,  stayin'  in  de 
jail  at  night  an'  eatin'  cold  corn  bread  an'  pork. 
Mighty  good  after  a  hard  day's  work,  if  you  can  g*it 
muff  by  it. 

*  * 

Now  we  think  that  we  have  given  sufficient  evi- 
dence to  prove  that  the  negro  was  not  capable  of  tak- 
ing- in  his  surrounding's  and  discarding  his  old  slavery 
clothes  and  putting  on  his  master's  cloth  suit.  Had 
he  been  left  free  to  make  his  own  contracts  for  his 
labor,  and  have  staid  on  the  plantations  where  he  was 
born  and  raised,  and  where  he  had  enjoyed  all  the 
fruits  of  his  labor,  he  would  have  been  in  far  better 
condition  than  he  is.  While  he  was  in  slavery  he  was 
enjoying  more  privileges  and  advancing  faster  in  civ- 
ilization under  a  free  government  than  many  other 
peoples,  red  and  white,  were  advancing.  He  had  the 
right  to  choose  whatever  denomination  he  wished 
without  having  it  forced  upon  him  by  imperial  power  to 


14 


THE  STATUS  OF  THE  NEGRO, 


have  but  one  faith.  This  freedom  of  religious  thought 
he  learned  from  his  constant  association  with  the 
white  people.  Therefore  his  slavery  brought  to  him  a 
free  religion,  which  was  a  good  compensation  for  his 
slavery. 

Jim  goes  home  satisfied  that  freedom  does  not  free 
him  from  either  punishment  or  labor,  and  settles  him- 
self down  to  make  a  living  by  honest  work,  and  learns 
the  lesson  to  keep  away  from  the  city. 


A  TILLING  TRAGEDY 

IX  THE  DAYS  OF  RECONSTRUCTION. 


A  TRAGIC  SCENE  ON  A  PLANTATION  IN  TUNICA 
COUNTY,  MISS. 

Just  upon  the  public  road  that  leads  from  Helena, 
Arkansas,  to  Austin,  Mississippi,  stood  a  beautiful 
country  cottage  house  that  had  been  occupied  before 
the  civil  war  by  a  gentleman  planter  and  his  family. 
They  were  all  educated,  refined  and  cultivated  people, 
members  of  the  old  school  Presbyterian  church,  and 
brought  up  in  that  faith  by  their  earliest  ancestors. 
This  elegant  country  residence  was  just  five  miles 
above  Helena  and  one  mile  from  the  Mississippi  river. 

After  the  war  the  family  domiciled  on  this  planta- 
tion, for  they  were  citizens  of  Arkansas.  The  planta- 
tion was  cultivated  after  the  war  by  a  portion  of  the 
old  slaves  that  were  born  to  the  family  and  some  hired 
free  men.  The  planter  was  prosperous  for  some 
years,  both  himself  and  his  employes  having  nothing 
to  do  with  politics,  never  going  to  an  election  or  voting 


16 


A  THRIVING  TRAGEDY 


for  any  party,  strictly  attending-  to  their  own  busi- 
ness. So  corrupt  had  society  become,  by  the  free- 
dom of  the  negro,  with  his  privileg-e  of  voting-,  that  it 
became  necessary  for  their  safety  that  they  move  back 
to  Helena.  This  they  did  in  the  fall  of  1870.  From 
this  time  up  to  1882  the  business  was  conducted  by  a 
manag-er.  In  the  fall  of  that  year  the  manag-er  left 
the  place  without  informing-  the  planter  of  his  inten- 
tion of  doing-  so. 

The  writer,  who  now  becomes  the  hero  of  his  story, 
moved  on  the  plantation  in  October,  taking-  with 
him  his  wife  and  a  true  trusty  servant  man,  who  had 
remained  with  the  family  and  claimed  nothing-  but  his 
former  position  in  the  family.  We  took  with  us  a  few 
cooking-  vessels  and  a  cow  to  g-ive  us  milk. 

On  our  arrival  at  the  plantation  we  saw  the  fields 
white  with  the  fleecy  staple,  hanging-  low  in  the  bolls, 
with  an  inviting-  appearance  for  the  picker.  I  had  to 
be  taken  over  in  a  two  horse  wag-on  on  a  larg-e  feather 
bed,  as  I  was  just  recovering- from  a  severe  spell  of 
sickness. 

Now  for  the  position  of  the  house.  It  stood  a  little 
back  from  the  road.  A  veranda  stretched  itself  the 
whole  leng-th  of  the  east  side.  The  two  north  rooms 
were  occupied  in  days  of  yore  as  double  parlors,  with 
sliding  doors  between.  The  south  side  was  taken  up 
by  a  bedroom,  nursery  and  kitchen.    There  were  two 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  RECONSTRUCTION. 


17 


windows  in  the  bedroom,  facing-  the  east,  and  four  in 
the  other  rooms,  looking*  south.  The  parlor,  as  said 
before,  was  the  north  room,  but  the  large  window  was 
in  the  east  middle  of  the  room.  It  was  built  in  the 
days  when  the  ladies  wanted  dark  parlors,  for  what 
reason  the  writer  cannot  say  ;  whether  to  prevent  close 
inspection  of  their  figure  and  face,  or  for  some  other 
good  reason,  the  writer  will  make  no  comment  at  this 
late  day.  If  it  was  for  any  safety  of  person  it  had  its 
origin,  it  certainly  served  its  purpose  in  the  tragic 
event  about  to  be  related. 

A  bed  was  set  up  in  this  parlor,  adjacent  to  this 
window,  and  the  writer  lay  thereon,  the  better  that 
he  might  see  the  laborers  as  they  passed  on  the  public 
road  and  engage  them  to  pick  cotton.  Many  had  been 
secured  in  this  way.  My  wife  had  the  cooking  and 
weighing  of  the  cotton  to  do,  as  it  was  some  time  be- 
fore I  was  able  to  attend  to  the  weighing.  About  the 
middle  of  November  a  man  and  his  family  were  pass- 
ing on  the  road,  when  I  hailed  to  him  from  the  window 
and  asked  him  if  he  wanted  to  work.  He  said  that  he 
did.  I  told  him  to  come  in  and  I  would  speak  with 
him.  He  approached  the  room  with  a  double  barrelled 
shotgun  on  his  shoulders  and  a  coonskin  cap  on  his 
head.  His  clothes  were  well  worn.  His  aspect  and 
demeanor  were  not  that  of  a  gentleman,  nor  did  he 
carry  an  honest  face.      On  looking  at  his  hands  I 


18 


A  THRIVING  TRAGEDY 


discovered  they  had  not  been  used  to  hard  labor,  but 
had  more  the  appearance  of  a  man  who  made  his  wife 
and  children  do  the  hard  labor  while  he  indulged  him- 
self with  the  lighter  employment  of  hunting- or  fishing*. 

We  soon  came  to  terms  about  the  cotton  picking, 
and  he  took  a  cabin  on  the  road  about  half  a  mile  from 
the  house.  My  wife  reported  the  next  day  that  his 
wife  and  son  and  daughter  had  entered  the  cotton  field 
and  were  busy  at  their  work.  I  did  not  expect  she 
would  find  the  man  out  of  his  place,  for  he  had  no 
place  where  money  was  to  be  made  by  honest  labor,  as 
he  had  struck  me  as  being  a  man  of  vile  temper,  if  not 
of  vicious  habits.  The  sequel  of  this  story  will  prove 
that  I  had  not  misjudged  the  man,  as  he  had  both. 

This  man  was  not  seen  on  the  plantation  in  the  day 
time,  except  on  Saturdays,  when  he  came  to  draw  the 
wages  for  his  family.  As  said  before,  my  wife  had  to 
weigh  the  cotton,  and  as  it  was  her  first  experience 
she  had  no  thought  of  the  tricks  that  would  be  played 
upon  her.  Mud  made  up  in  large  cakes,  heavy  irons, 
and  bags  filled  with  sand  were  placed  in  the  center  of 
the  baskets.  Some  four  or  five  thousand  pounds  of 
this  "tricky"  cotton  had  been  weighed  up  and  paid 
for  at  one  dollar  per  hundred.  How  much  or  how  lit- 
tle of  this  cotton  "cheat"  was  attributable  to  this 
family  the  writer  does  not  know,  but  suppose  they 
came  in  for  their  share. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  RECONSTRUCTION. 


19 


Now  comes  the  detail  of  this  tragic  story  we  have 
taken  the  winding-  road  to  reach. 

On  Saturday  morning  the  man  came  to  get  his  pay 
for  the  week's  picking*.  He  said  he  wished  to  go  over 
to  Helena  to  make  some  purchases.  I  had  paid  out  all 
the  small  change  I  had,  which  still  left  me  in  debt  to 
him  two  dollars.  I  gave  him  a  five  dollar  bill  and 
told  him  he  could  bring  me  the  change.  He  took  the 
bill  and  said  he  would  do  so.  I  had  quite  a  large  roll 
of  money  in  my  hand  at  the  time,  some  twenty  dollar 
bills.  I  saw  he  looked  at  the  roll  quizzically,  as  if  to 
say,  "I  would  like  to  have  the  pile." 

As  said  before,  he  always  entered  the  house  with 
a  shotgun  on  his  shoulder.  This  time  he  was  doubly 
armed  by  a  six  shooter,  girted  close  to  his  side.  He 
left  the  room  without  the  formal  goodbye.  I  was 
much  fatigued  by  the  many  settlements  I  had  made 
that  day,  as  my  wife  had  gone  to  Helena  to  attend  to 
business  and  make  arrangements  for  selling  the  cot- 
ton. Before  moving  to  the  plantation  my  wife  had 
taken  two  motherless  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  The 
boy  was  about  eight  and  the  girl  six  years  old.  She 
had  left  them  with  me  to  care  for  until  her  return, 
which  was  after  the  tragic  affair. 

The  man  returned  in  the  evening  about  4  o'clock 
very  much  intoxicated.  He  came  to  the  gate  and 
called  to  my  man  to  tell  me  to  come  out  there.  He 


20 


A  THRIVING  TRAGEDY 


told  him  I  was  sick,  and  said  to  the  little  boy  who 
stood  on  the  gallery  in  front  of  the  window  to  tell  me 
the  man  wanted  me  to  come  to  the  gate.  He  said  to 
the  servant,  "I  told  you  to  go,  sir,"  at  the  same  time 
advancing  with  an  ax  handle,  striking  him  over  the 
head  and  cutting  a  severe  gash,  from  which  the  blood 
flowed  freely.  The  servant  man  had  an  armful  of 
shucks  for  the  cow,  but  he  did  not  throw  them  down  or 
resent  the  stroke.  I  saw  this  from  the  window,  and 
called  to  the  servant  to  throw  away  his  shucks  and  de- 
fend himself,  at  the  same  time  saying,  "Are  you  go- 
ing to  stand  there  and  let  the  man  beat  you  to  death?  " 
At  this  moment  he  threw  away  his  shucks,  jerked  the 
ax  handle  out  of  his  antagonist's  hands,  and  struck  him 
a  blow  on  the  head  which  was  equal  to  if  not  greater 
than  the  one  he  had  received. 

At  this  the  man  ran  towards  his  cabin,  and  in  a 
short  time  three  men,  all  on  horseback,  made  their 
appearance  with  double  barrelled  guns  and  pistols.  I 
had  gone  into  the  kitchen  with  the  children ;  was 
standing  between  the  two  openings  when  I  was  fired 
at  by  the  intruder,  and  came  near  being  hit.  I  saw 
that  I  was  in  a  dangerous  place,  and  retreated  with 
the  children  through  the  hall  to  the  front  door,  which 
I  found  open.  I  shut  it,  and  at  the  same  time  discov- 
ered an  ax  standing  by  the  door.  This  I  seized, 
pulled  it  through,  and  locked  the  door.    It  was  all  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  RECONSTRUCTION. 


21 


weapon  I  had,  and  all  I  wanted  on  this ,  occasion. 
Pushing-  the  children  into  the  parlor  by  the  hall  door 
I  locked  it,  and  took  my  stand,  ax  in  hand,  between 
the  window  and  the  hall  door. 

By  this  time  the  men  had  gotten  around  in  front  of 
the  window  and  were  shooting-  throug-h  it  at  me.  But 
as  I  was  in  the  close  corner  of  the  room,  between  the 
door  and  the  window,  I  discovered  their  shots  had 
taken  effect  in  the  sliding-  door  of  the  parlor.  After 
several  shots  of  this  kind,  only  varying-  in  space,  they 
changed  their  position  and  fired  from  the  south  side  of 
the  window.  Just  before  this  shot  the  little  boy  had 
become  alarmed  and  ran  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
room.  I  saw  the  danger  he  was  in,  and  jumped  at 
him  and  threw  him  under  the  bed,  and  his  sister  also. 
While  I  was  doing*  this  a  slug  shot  passed  me  and 
struck  over  the  mantel,  cutting  a  hole  that  was  large 
enough  to  admit  your  fist. 

I  quickly  secured  my  position  in  the  corner,  though 
never  turning  loose  my  faithful  ax.  The  armed  men 
then  came  up  in  single  file,  and  the  first  man  attempted 
to  enter  the  room.  I  said  to  him,  "Come  in  and  I  will 
split  your  head  wide. open. "  He  jumped  back,  think- 
ing I  would  make  a  lick  at  him,  but  I  kept  a  firm  grip 
upon  the  ax.  The  next  effort  was  to  burst  open  the 
front  door  and  make  an  entrance  into  the  hall,  think- 
ing to  be  able  to  enter  the  room.    They  succeeded  in 


22 


A  THRIVING  TRAGEDY 


entering-  the  hall,  but  finding-  the  room  door  closed 
they  returned  to  the  window,  and,  twisting-  their  g-uns 
around,  fired  several  shots  at  me  with  like  effect  as 
before. 

Finding-  my  position  impreg-nable,  they  ag-ain  tried 
to  force  an  entrance  throug-h  the  door  of  the  room 
which  entered  into  the  hall.  They  forced  it  partially 
open,  and  the  foremost  man  put  his  hand  throug-h  the 
crack.  I  said,  "lam  not  g-oing-  to  make  a  stroke  at 
your  hand  ;  put  your  head  throug-h— that  is  what  I  am 
after — I  want  to  split  it  wide  open  ;  I  am  not  afraid 
of  you. ' ' 

This  shooting-  had  been  gfoing-  on  for  about  two 
hours  when  I  heard  one  of  them  say,  "We  have  killed 
him;  I  saw  him  fall."  It  was  now  growing  dark, 
and  a  heavy  black  cloud  was  g-athering  in  the  south- 
east. I  heard  the  fellow  say,  "  Let's  g-et  on  our  horses 
and  g-et  away  ;  they  will  be  after  us  soon."  By  this 
time  some  neig-hbors  who  lived  about  a  mile  distant 
heard  the  firing-,  and  supposed  it  was  the  negroes  shoot- 
ing- off  their  pistols  as  they  were  accustomed  to  do  Sat- 
urday evening's.  But  one  of  them  said,  4 '  There  is  too 
much  shooting- ;  let's  g-o  over  and  see. "  Before  they 
reached  the  place  the  men  had  made  their  escape 
through  the  cotton  field  under  cover  of  the  dark  cloud 
and  rain. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  RECONSTRUCTION. 


23 


As  I  saw  them  going-  through  the  cotton  field  I  re- 
treated through  the  back  door  with  the  children.  By 
this  time  the  rain  was  pouring*  down  in  torrents,  and 
the  night  was  the  blackness  of  darkness.  To  get  to 
the  neighbor's  house  without  traveling  the  public 
road  a  part  of  the  way — which  I  was  afraid  to  do  lest 
I  come  in  contact  with  them — was  another  thought. 
The  little  girl  I  had  to  take  in  my  arms,  as  she  was 
too  small  to  keep  up  with  the  boy  and  myself.  I  con- 
cluded to  make  the  journey  through  the  woods,  and 
follow  a  path  with  which  I  was  familiar,  though  it 
was  half  a  mile  further  than  the  public  road.  I  could 
only  see  the  path  by  the  flashes  of  lightning  as  they 
illuminated  our  way.  There  was  a  long  boggy  la- 
goon to  be  crossed,  and  the  water  part  of  it  had  to  be 
crossed  on  a  tree  that  stretched  itself  across  for  the 
benefit  of  pedestrians.  Often  had  I  to  stop  on  this 
tree  to  await  the  vivid  flashes  of  lightning  that  illumi- 
nated our  path.  Nearly  exhausted  with  my  load  of 
precious  live  stock,  I  came  near  falling  off  the  log. 
But  by  the  direction  of  a  kind  providence  we  made  our 
way  safely  over  the  lagoon  and  struck  the  path  on  the 
opposite  side.  It  was  now  nearly  a  mile  to  the  house, 
but  we  could  see  the  fires  burning  in  the  cabins,  which 
were  a  feeble  guide  for  us.  By  this  time  the  little  girl 
began  to  be  impatient  at  her  restrained  position,  and 
the  little  boy  was  fretting  and  wanted  to  stop  and 


24 


A  THRIVING  TRAGEDY 


rest.  He  said  lie  was  being-  drowned  with  the  rain. 
However,  we  paddled  along-  throug-h  the  mud  and 
water  until  we  reached  the  house. 

We  found  no  white  persons  on  the  premises.  The 
owner  of  the  place  was  a  bachelor,  and  he  and  all  the 
white  men  had  g-one  over  to  my  place  to  see  what  the 
trouble  was.  Seeing-  the  house  shot  to  pieces,  resem- 
bling- an  old  fort  that  had  stood  the  fire  of  the  enemy's 
g-uns,  but  had  been  evacuated  because  it  could  hold  out 
no  long-er,  they  determined  to  know  the  truth  of  the 
matter.  They  went  throug-h  the  falling-  rain  to  a  ne- 
gro's house,  who  g-ave  them  the  story  of  the  shoot- 
ing-. They  determined  to  follow  the  would  be  mur- 
derers and  hang-  them  to  a  limb,  with  feet  upwards. 
In  vain  they  pursued  them  nearly  all  nig-ht,  and  came 
in  just  before  daylig-ht  to  g-et  fresh  horses  and  dry 
clothing-  to  renew  their  chase. 

The  writer  had  g-otten  the  children  to  bed,  and 
they  were  taking-  a  g-ood  sleep  after  their  perilous 
journey  and  frig-ht.  I  told  the  whole  story  to  the 
men.  They  waited  until  daylig-ht,  and  then,  with  all 
the  negro  men  and  mules  on  the  place,  and  all  on 
mine,  they  set  out  afresh  in  pursuit  of  the  crim- 
inals. But  these  men  knew  the  woods  and  by  ways 
too  well  to  be  caug-ht.  It  is  said  that  they  boarded  a 
steamer  about  twenty-five  miles  up  the  river,  and 
have  never  been  seen  nor  heard  of  since,  except  by  a 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  RECONSTRUCTION. 


25 


traveling*  man,  who  said  the  leader  had  been  convicted 
of  horse  stealing-  in  Alabama  and  had  broken  jail  and 
escaped,  for  whom  there  was  a  heavy  reward. 

One  of  the  men  that  was  with  the  leader  had  come 
into  his  cabin  the  nig-ht  before.  I  saw  him  next  morn- 
ing-. He  was  half  French  and  half  negro,  with  black 
hair,  small  black  eyes,  and  skin  nearly  the  same  color. 
Doubtless  they  were  a  trio  of  thieves,  robbers  and 
murderers. 

But  what  say  you  of  that,  since  all  the  devils  cast 
out  were  coming-  into  the  bottom  lands  to  take  shelter 
in  the  cane  brakes  ! 

What  became  of  the  servant  man  ?  On  the  first 
fire  into  the  kitchen  window  he  fled  out  of  the  back 
door  and  hid  himself  in  an  outer  house  and  remained 
there  until  the  neighbors  came.  When  I  saw  him  the 
next  da}^  I  said  to  him  :  ' '  Well,  old  fellow,  what  did  the 
bear  say  to  you  when  he  whispered  in  your  ear?  Did 
he  not  tell  you  not  to  forsake  a  friend  in  time  of  need  ? 
You  see  all'  my  trouble  was  on  your  account.  If  you 
had  stood  your  ground  we  could  have  whipped  those 
fellows  and  captured  three  desperadoes."  "But," 
said  he,  "they  all  had  g-uns  and  pistols  and  we  had 
none,  and  I  thoug-ht  they  would  kill  us  both.  They 
were  all  drinking. "  "  But, ' '  said  I,  "I  was  defending 
you  as  well  as  myself.  It  was  a  cowardly  act  in  you, 
and  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  it. " 


26 


A  THRIVING  TRAGEDY 


The  grand  jury  indicted  the  men,  but  they  were 
never  caught ;  nor  were  any  of  the  eleven  murderers, 
who  had  killed  that  many  men  in  that  neighborhood, 
the  Mississippi  river  forming  a  line  for  their  escape 
into  Arkansas  and  Texas. 

One  of  the  best  men  I  ever  knew  was  cut  all  to 
pieces  by  a  negro  at  night,  who  made  his  escape  by 
crossing  the  river,  and  was  never  heard  of  afterwards. 
These  things  took  place  in  Christian  America.  Are 
the  Philippinos  doing  any  worse? 


ANNIVERSARY 

OF  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY. 


[Read  before  the  Little  Rock  Medical  Society.] 

On  the  nineteenth  of  February,  eig-hteen  twenty-four, 
A  child  was  born  in  the  days  of  yore  ; 
He  is  now  seventy-six,  and  has  learned  many  bad 
tricks, 

As  all  will  do  who  have  lived  so  long-, 

And  with  increasing*  years  have  become  so  strong- 

In  doing*  many  thing's  that  are  so  wrong-. 

He  now  confesses,  with  shame  of  face, 

That  with  the  g-ood  he  has  not  kept  pace, 

But  has  wandered  far  from  the  path  of  right 

And  let  reason  sometimes  take  its  flight ; 

But  in  reviewing-  his  course  of  so  many  years, 

He  has  found  them  filled  with  many  fears. 

Sometimes  an  operation  he  would  perform, 

When  reason  taug-ht  him  he'd  spoil  the  form 

Of  some  sweet  g-irl — her  mother's  delight — 

To  become  the  sacrifice  of  a  scientific  figfht. 

Of  mistakes  many  he  has  made, 

And  some  of  them  quite  sad, 

For  he  fears  that  some  were  sent  to  their  graves, 


28 


ANNIVERSARY  OE  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY. 


And  buried  long-  before  their  days. 
How  many  he's  killed  no  tongue  can  tell, 
As  death  keeps  her  own  secrets  when  she  bids  us 
farewell. 

Now  comes  the  time  in  my  professional  career  I  must 
start. 

'Twas  in  eighteen  forty-nine  that  I  made  up  my  mind 
To  take  the  scalpel  and  handle  it  well, 
As  I  had  been  taught  in  days  of  old  surgery 
To  cut  a  tumor  in  very  good  humor, 
To  make  my  patient  well,  as  many  can  tell 
Who  fell  under  the  blade  of  the  vile  scalpel. 
Now  the  saddle  bags  I  must  firmly  grasp, 
And  take  a  jaunt  to  the  country — fast — 
To  see  some  sick  dame, 
And  with  the  lancet  open  a  vein 
And  relieve  her  of  her  violent  pain. 
Then  comes  the  medicine.    What  shall  it  be  ? 
A  draught,  or  a  purge,  to  make  her  bowels  surge, 
Or  an  anodine,  to  take  in  time, 
That  modern  surgeons  call  very  fine, 
For  this  will  relieve  her  pain,  you  see, 
Until  I  return  and  by  the  morning's  light 
Discover  what  a  mistake  I  made  last  night. 
This  first  case  of  mine  was  quite  divine, 
As  it  took  the  whole  day  and  the  rest  of  my  time. 
The  welkin  rung  with  many  screams  from  her  surg- 
ing chest, 

While  the  doctor  ran  with  all  his  might 
To  hide  himself  under  the  shadows  of  night, 
For  the  child  was  born  on  a  frosty  night. 


ANNIVERSARY  OF  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY. 


29 


The  next  morning-  he  heard  that  a  boy  was  born, 

And  that  the  woman  was  not  forlorn, 

For  she  did  not  die  when  the  child  was  born. 

This  young-  doctor  did  take  fright, 

For  the  child  was  born  on  a  frosty  night. 

Now  comes  a  bad  case  the  doctor  to  try, 

And  take  the  blemish  out  of  the  eye. 

'Twas  a  g-irl  of  fair  complexion — brig-ht — 

Who  was  led  around  by  friends  at  night. 

Her  eyes  had  become  dimmed  by  the  loss  of  sight, 

By  cataract  there, 

And  spoiled  her  face,  which  was  so  fair. 

His  steady  hand  he  must  prepare, 

To  take  the  cataract  out  of  the  eye. 

He  quickly  grasps  the  knife  at  last 

And  cuts  away,  as  in  days  that  have  passed. 

One  eye  he  tries  at  this  time, 

But  never  thinks  of  putting  it  in  rhyme. 

He  restores  the  one  by  special  sleight, 

Then  comes  his  fame  to  make  his  name  bright, 

And  make  the  old  ladies  talk  at  night 

Of  what  wonderful  skill  he  did  possess, 

To  restore  the  blind  to  her  former  sisfht. 

His  name  was  in  the  mouths  of  all  around, 

Who  lived  at  ease  in  this  little  town. 

Now  comes  the  other  eye  he  must  restore, 

And  this  must  be  done  as  in  days  of  yore. 

He  did  not  couch,  as  in  modern  style, 

But  depressed  the  tumor  all  the  while. 

The  operation  succeeded,  as  in  the  other  eye, 

And  then  he  came  in  for  the  chicken  pie, 


30 


ANNIVERSARY  OF  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY. 


For  from  this  operation  his  fame  did  go 

To  puzzle  the  mind  of  his  jealous  foe. 

Many  dollars  he  accumulated  in  this  way, 

To  lay  up  for  a  rainy  day. 

So  now  you  have  the  first  of  my  skill, 

And  I'll  take  the  comments  at  your  good  will. 

To  the  old  code  of  ethics  I've  firmly  stood, 

Believing-  none  other  half  so  good, 

For  it  keeps  me  pure  in  my  professional  career 

To  set  my  compass  the  ship  to  steer. 

It  makes  me  what  a  gentleman  should  be, 

To  keep  the  right  and  from  the  wrong  to  flee, 

To  put  jealousy  far  from  my  breast, 

For  it  was  born  in  the  devil's  nest. 

It  brings  out  the  purest  thoughts  of  my  mind, 

And  makes  me  both  gentle  and  kind  ; 

To  treat  my  fellows  with  courtesy  pure, 

And  disdain  the  things  that  quacks  adore. 

You  see  I  have  given  you  my  fame  in  rhyme, 

Of  the  famous  things  I  did  in  olden  time, 

When  fame  was  not  gained  by  foolish  rhyme, 

But  by  dint  of  application,  strong  and  free, 

That  those  who  looked  might  readily  see, 

For  'twas  on  a  foundation  laid  by  skill 

That  secured  an  expression  of  very  good  will. 

So  upon  this  foundation  I've  built  my  character, 

And  it  has  stood  until  times  of  late, 

When  the  old  man  must  bemoan  his  fate, 

To  call  all  he  knows  out  of  date. 

'Tis  sad  to  think  one's  out  of  date 

When  he  recalls  the  things  of  late, 


ANNIVERSARY  OF  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY.  31 


Which  are  so  much  out  of  time 

They  would  not  make  a  decent  rh}-me. 

Of  theories  many  we  have  in  state, 

To  tell  of  the  wonderful  things  of  late  ; 

They  tell ;  you  must  a  pessimist  be, 

For  they  look  after  thing-s  much  less  than  a  flea. 

A  germ  is  found  for  everything*, 

And  you  must  believe  it  or  take  the  sting 

Of  the  scientific  scourge  that  comes  with  the  ring-. 

These  theories  are  of  ancient  date, 

But  have  come  in  these  }-ears  of  late 

To  pose  as  something*  new,  you  see  ; 

But  they  cannot  deceive  you  and  me, 

For  we  traveled  that  path  in  days  of  yore, 

To  learn  that  little  fishes  must  keep  close  to  the  shore. 

We  did  not  g*o  out  in  the  midst  of  the  sea 

To  discover  what  there  should  be, 

But  kept  ourselves  closely  confined, 

To  take  a  theory  one  at  a  time 

And  bring*  it  down  to  practical  thought, 

Which  we  thought  was  so  dearly  bought, 

For  it  cost  us  many  a  day  of  idle  time 

To  bring  out  the  thing  that  was  out  of  time 

To  practical  use  without  abuse 

And  make  it  of  use  to  human  kind. 

But  of  this  effort  many  did  fail, 

And  then  comes  the  professional  wail. 

Then  all  cry  out,  "A  failure  it  is," 

And  the  man  dies  out  with  professional  ills. 

A  synopsis  of  this  rhyme  would  be 

As  foolish,  as  you  all  can  see, 


32 


ANNIVERSARY  OF  MY  SEVENTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY. 


As  theories  brought  from  dark  to  light 
By  a  microscopic  view  at  night. 
Some  fads  we  have  in  days  of  late, 

But  to  keep  up  with  them  requires  a  commercial 
estate. 

They  flounder  and  flutter,  but  break  at  our  will, 
As  all  fads  do  when  exposed  to  our  skill, 
For  we  are  taught  the  truth  and  to  stick  to  its  lines, 
And  pay  no  attention  to  the  would  be  divines. 

TENTATIVE  PRACTICE. 

Mistakes  must  be  made  when  tentative  we  use, 
And  this  sort  of  practice  we  cannot  refuse, 
As  it  gives  us  experience  the  ills  to  cure, 
And  makes  our  practice  much  more  sure 
Of  robbing  the  grave  of  its  victims  by  score. 
And  now  I'm  come  to  my  days  at  last, 
And  withered  like  a  thing  of  grass  ; 
And  when  the  summons  comes  to  die 
I  would  not  from  its  portals  fly, 
Not  like  the  culprit,  scourged  to  his  den, 
Scourged  by  thoughts  of  evil  he's  done, 
But  like  some  good  man,  his  conscience  to  bear, 
When  he  sits  down  in  his  old  arm  chair, 
My  hope  to  gain,  in  the  world  to  come, 
As  many  who  have  gone  before  me  have  done. 
These  thoughts  of  mine  have  become  crystalized  by 
time, 

As  I  have  drawn  them  from  things  divine  ; 
And  now  I  give  them  to  you  in  the  rough, 
And  think  I  hear  you  cry,  "Hold  !  enough." 


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